Halloween Child
by ToriB66
Summary: Maria Bell has never had a good life, with her arrogant father and trashy, mean stepmother. But soon she'll meet someone she never would've expected; the infamous Michael Myers. Will he slaughter her as he did the rest, or perhaps inside his cold heart Maria can find some humanity left. NO FLUFF. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Maria knew she was in trouble.

She had always been in trouble. Growing up with a lazy, fat alcoholic bastard for a father and an arrogant, smoking, ordering step-mother living in a ratty shack was hard enough, but it made it even worse when she was only 10 years old.

Her real mother, Marissa Clover Bell had died seconds after Maria was born, leaving her grieving husband a child to take care of. Erik tried his hardest for the first six years, struggling past the toddler ages when Maria wondered about the house and broke things for no reason and barely making it up to the second grade before he could take no more and resorted to alcohol for his sadness and frustration.

At first, Maria only knew that when her father drank the "bad drink" that it made him go a little "loopy". She was smart enough to avoid him when he staggered about, slurring incomprehensible orders to her and screaming at her for things she had never done, blaming her for Marissa's death and wishing she was never born. She pushed through, thinking the bad times would all be over soon but that all disappeared when Erik met Andrea.

Maria hated her from the very first time she met her; the woman only paused to look down at her, snort, and said to Erik "_This _is your kid?" She had responded by giving the woman a wicked kick to the kneecap and for that her father had dragged her up to her room, threw her, screaming, on the bed and locked the door. While she cried on her bed she could hear her father and that woman laughing it up downstairs, breaking bottles, screaming insults at one another before starting to moan and grunt for reasons Maria couldn't understand.

That was the day that a little part of her, a tiny piece of her soul shriveled up and died. Reality came breaking down the door and forcefully shoved its way into the little girl's life. Maria just… gave up, ignoring everything that went around her and stopped talking. To her father, to her Andrea, to her friends, to her teachers, she just stopped and no one knew why. "Talk to me," her deadbeat father had pleaded one evening, crouching in front of her, his breath stinking of whiskey, his eyes bloodshot. Maria answered by spitting in his face and then running away, screaming as he chased after her with a scream of "You little bitch!"

At her school she was known as "Maria Myers"; a name that she really mind and or care about. She didn't care about anything anymore. "Myers! Myers! Mini Myers!" The kids would chant, dancing around her, laughing madly until she got up and walked away, glaring at them from the corner of her eye, her fists flexing at her sides. The teachers never noticed; at the slightest whisper of the name Myers they would turn a blind eye. Maria always managed to get away from the crowd, heading for the tall dead oak that stood in the corner of the playground, climbing the highest branch and sitting there until recess was over.

But not this time.

"Hey freak, where do ya think you're goin'?" A voice shouted and Maria turned her eyes wide as a stampede of kids swarmed her. She looked around, but knew there was no way out. Somehow she had always known that there was no way out as she grudgingly straightened, glaring as a large, burly 6th grader forced his way through the crowd, his mouth twisted in a grin.

She narrowed her gaze as a harsh, chilly wind blew through the crowd of elementary kids, making most of them shiver. The 6th grader, Tommy, stood at even heights with Maria. For her age she was very tall as he stood up on his tippy-toes to make himself appear larger than her. "Ya know what day it's gonna be soon, right Mini Myers?"

Laughter rippled through the crowd as Maria sucked in a breath. She knew very well it was two days before Halloween; everyone did. On Halloween night her father would let her roam the neighborhood with the rest of the teenagers; all the other children would be locked in their homes in fear of him. Maria had never seen any of the actual killings, but two years ago a young girl had been brutally murdered just four houses down from Maria's home. Andrea had freaked, saying they needed to move and for once, Maria sided with her father and they stayed. Truth be told, she was fascinated with him.

Michael Myers, Haddonfield's very own serial killer who came out on Halloween and slaughtered people, innocent or not and then disappeared back in the shadows until next year. Maria had heard the story enough times; he had murdered his sister with a kitchen knife when he was six years old and was shoved in Smith's Grove Sanatorium where he received unsuccessful psychiatric treatment from his doctor, Samuel Loomis. He broke out fifteen years later and did two attempts to kill his baby sister, Laurie Strode and was nearly killed by her and Dr. Loomis.

He vanished in 1981 and returned 10 years later to kill Jamie Harris, his niece and was finally pronounced dead in 1995 after the town's sheriff had declared the killer had been shot in the head. No body was ever found and Jamie died three years later, leaving the Myers legacy a mystery. Dr. Loomis moved into Haddonfield, believing the insane psychopath to still be alive no matter what anyone told him.

However, many people in Haddonfield believed that Michael Myers was still out there and Maria was one of those people.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Tommy rudely shoving his face in hers, sneering. "Wassamatta Mini Myers? Are you sad that nobody loves you?" he crooned, clasping his hands together in a mock gesture of begging and forgiveness. "Are you sad that your mommy's dead?" Laughter ran through the crowd again but laughs were quickly transformed into screams as Maria lunged forward, slamming into Tommy and knocking him to the ground.

Her hands clamped around his throat, her eyes wide and wild, her lips curled back in a snarl as Tommy choked and gagged beneath her, his face reddening with each passing moment. Hands grabbed at her shirt, her hair but she shook them off, tightening her grip as he uselessly slapped at her arms.

"Bell!" A shriek made her wince and her eyes grew wide, her mouth falling open as a pair of arms struggled to pull her off Tommy. Ms. Perkins finally got her away from the unlucky 6th grader as he coughed and wheezed for air. Maria didn't fight against the teacher yanking her to her feet and dragging her to the doors of the school; she was still staring in shock at what she had done and how it made her feel.

It made her feel… good.

"How the hell could you do such a thing?!" her father exclaimed, pacing around the principal's office while Maria dejectedly sat in the oversized chair, her head bowed, her hair creating a curtain that separated her from the rest of the world. _"Hey!" _he shouted and Maria jumped, his quivering face inches from hers. "Answer me dammit!"

"Mr. Bell," Mr. Wilkins stammered, standing from his desk, "please refrain your tone."

Mr. Bell scowled at Mr. Wilkins, revealing yellowed teeth that reeked of alcohol. "Maria, unfortunately, has to be suspended from school for three days," the smaller man said and Mr. Bell stared at the principal before rounding on his daughter and roughly jerking her out of the seat.

"Move your ass Maria!" he bellowed as she stumbled after him while Mr. Wilkins called for them to come back. He dragged her outside and thrust her towards the beat up Ford. "Get in." He stepped around to the driver's side and hopped in the car, slamming the door shut. Maria slowly backed away from the rusty old truck, shaking her head, trembling in fear. "Get in!" her father shouted and she furiously shook her head, tears spilling onto her pale cheeks.

Her father cursed and threw open the door, the truck shaking as he got out. Maria watched his dirty work boots quickly cross the ground and then he's suddenly standing right in front of her. "I wasn't asking," he said in a low, dangerous tone and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the truck. She twisted, wrenching her arm from his grasp and broke off into a run for the trees. _"Maria!" _Her father's shout echoed behind her but she kept running.

Not a single sound escaped from her as she ran, shoving aside branches and leaping over discarded tree branches and rocks sticking out of the ground, her backpack bouncing up and down. Her heart was pounding high up in her chest, its sullen sound echoing in her ears. She didn't consciously know where she was going, but her legs took her there and when she finally stopped, wheezing for air and straightened up, somehow she knew where she wanted to go all along.

45 Lampkin Lane.

The Myers residence.

The old house was worn down, the chain link fence hanging on its hinges, the paint long washed off, only a few specks scattered around the house. A broken bicycle was thrown carelessly in the front lawn, vines crawling up the left hand side of the house, leading to Judith Myers' room. The room she was killed in.

Maria looked left and right, breathing slowly. It was quiet, the silence broken only by laughter sounding far away. This street was deserted, all the other houses dark and seemingly abandoned. Everyone on Lampkin Lane did their best to lock themselves up on Halloween night, just in case.

_Just in case he comes home, _Maria thought.

She started to walk down the decrepit driveway, her footsteps crunching lightly on the gravel. She came upon the old wooden porch steps, each creak making her wince until she pushed open the door and slipped inside the house, letting it shut behind her with barely any sound.

Maria had been in the house before; wandering aimlessly about, having nothing else to do. She crept quietly up the wooden steps, putting all her weight on the tips of her toes, her heels high up in the air as she silently landed on the second floor. Holding her breath she made her way down the hall to Judith's room, stepping through the open doorway and stopped.

The oak dresser was to her right, the chair still in front of it, the mirror dusty and dirty, the hairbrush resting on the wood as if waiting to be picked up again. The bed's sheet were rumpled and stained with dark red flecks and Maria shivered. An image flashed through her mind of a little boy in a clown costume raising the kitchen knife above his head, the menace and hate clear in his innocent blue eyes, his sisters screams echoing in his arms.

And Maria wondered: did he feel the same she did here, and now?

So helplessly alone with no one to pull her out of the darkness that was slowly consuming her life, her thoughts and her soul until she turned as evil as Michael had?

She walked across the floor to the corner of the room, next to the window and sat down with some difficulty, suddenly feeling a million years old, as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She pulled her legs up to her chest, the jean area around her knees torn and ripped; her knees themselves bruised and scratched and shrugged her backpack off her and let it slump to the floor. Tears started to gather in her eyes but she angrily wiped them away. _Don't you dare cry, _she sternly told herself. _Don't you FUCKING dare._

Maria sucked in a breath when a creak from upstairs made her head jerk up. She blinked at the ceiling, her eyes moving across the ancient wood as a light veil of dust drifted down from the ceiling. _Who's upstairs? _She whispered to herself, stirring on the floor but not getting up.

The sound of heavy footsteps slowly thumping upstairs made her swallow and push herself tighter against the wall. The attic stairs creaked and groaned underneath someone's weight and Maria wished that there was a door in the doorframe more than anything else as she stared into the hallway, eyes wide. The boots slowly approached the room and Maria pressed herself harder against the wall and the bed, contemplating whether or not to slither underneath the bed when the figure came into her view.

Maria was paralyzed, unable to move, her breath hitched in her throat as Michael Myers walked in front of the doorway. Tremors rocked through her body as she saw the gleaming, bloody kitchen knife in his right hand, his burned and scarred hand curled around it. His dark blue jumpsuit was flecked with dirt and blood, his boots uttering not even the slightest gleam. The stark white mask seemed too bright for the rest of his outfit, the brown hair tangled but remotely smoothed back. The mask concealed his black eyes, "the devil's eyes", as Dr. Loomis had insisted so many times._ I'm going to die. I'm going to die here._ She expected him to turn, for his eyes to lock on her and for him to stride forward and repaint the room with her blood.

But Michael merely rubbed the back of his mask with his left hand, yawned, and continued down the hallway.

Maria blinked a few times and lifted her head, her mouth opening slightly as his boots kept going down the hall. She gave a soft sigh, relaxing when they stopped and quickly walked back to Judith's room and she froze as Michael strode into the room, his eyes traveling down to meet hers.

Maria didn't scream, didn't move, didn't think, didn't _breathe_ as Michael approached her, his eyes narrowed in anger, two black holes swirling with emotion. The hand clamped around the knife rose in the air as he crossed the room. She was scared but instead of screaming and flailing about on the floor, Maria sat there, her heartbeat surprisingly moderate as the killer advanced, stopping mere inches from her spot on the floor.

Michael raised the knife higher in the air, his grip flexing on the handle and Maria met his gaze evenly, welcoming Death's warm embrace. _If I'm going to die, I would rather die at the hands of Michael Myers than at the claws of humanity, _she thought numbly, taking in a deep breath when he stopped. Michael frowned at her, his black eyes full of confusion, the hand holding the knife now unsteady.

Maria didn't know it, but the fact that she didn't scream had saved her life.

She was silent, staring at Michael as he, in turn, lowered the knife, tilting his head to the side.

_…What happens now?_


	2. Chapter 2

He stared down at her, his eyebrows furrowed when a loud bang outside made them both jump. "Maria!" Her father's bellowing roar made her whimper and crawl towards the window. Michael stepped to the side out of view and glared out the window as her father's rusted pick-up drove up outside and she watched as her father stumbled out, tipping a bottle of Captain Morgan to his lips, obnoxiously drunk.  
Maria swallowed and nervously crawled away from the window, seeing Michael's gaze flicker down to her and then back outside as her father staggered towards the front porch, swearing profusely. How had he found her? How had he known she was going to be here? Her gaze snapped back to Michael as he gave a low growl and tore away from the window. She scrambled out of the way as he stormed out of the room, his boots clomping down the hall.  
_He didn't kill me. He's going to kill Dad instead._  
She sat on the floor for a moment before getting to her feet, swaying slightly and cautiously went out into the hall, moving down to the top of the hall where the stairs were when the door banged open. She gasped, both hands clapping over her mouth as her father tripped inside, the breeze blowing in a few leaves with him and slammed the door behind him, squinting to see in the dark. "Where… where are you?" he slurred, raising the bottle to his lips once again, scouring the second floor.  
Maria shrank into the shadows as his eyes fell on her, praying he hadn't seen her, but as usual, her pleas were ignored. "I can see you princess," he drawled, laughing as he stepped on the first step. Maria backed away from her father as he climbed up the steps, finishing the bottle of beer. "You've been a very"- he smashed the bottle against the wall and she jumped, her hands clamped over her mouth as her eyes filled with tears- "bad girl, Maria."  
She backed up, stumbling over a loose plank in the floor and falling against the wall, staring at her father with her heart pounding in her chest. A cruel sneer formed on his face as he chuckled, then suddenly shouted "You dumb whore! I had to look all over town for you, you slut!" Tears ran down her face as he walked towards her, jabbing a finger in her direction. Maria's gaze was fixed on him, but something caught her attention behind her father and her eyes widened; it was Michael appearing out of the shadows, knife in hand, murder written in his eyes.  
_Keep him distracted._  
Maria straightened, and as a show of defiance, flipped her father off as Michael approached her father from behind, raising his knife in the air. Her father stopped, shock registering on his face and then his face darkened as anger twisted his features. "Why, you little motherfuck-_agh_!" He screamed as Michael rammed the knife deep in his left shoulder, all the way up the handle and Maria watched as blood squirted out, flecking his mask.  
Her father whirled and a flash of silver lit up for an instant and a thought burst into her mind; her father had a switchblade. She opened her mouth to warn Michael but not a single sound came out and her father slashed at him, opening up a huge cut on his right arm. Michael grunted but didn't budge and in response her father popped him one in the face.  
Now Michael stumbled against the wall, shaking his head to snap out of the daze when her father kneed him the golden spot. Maria could see his eyes widen with pain and he doubled over, falling to the floor as her father laughed cruelly and plunged his own switchblade deep into Michael's back behind his shoulder and Michael jerked up, his left arm twisting as he tried to wrench the knife out of his back.  
"You little bitch," her father panted, standing in front of him, "I'm gonna teach you a lesson, you freak." He whipped off his jean jacket, exposing a former boxer's muscles and slammed one in the jaw, causing his head to snap back and hit the wall. Maria looked around frantically and eyed the floorboard sticking out of the floor and dropped to her knees, grasping it with both hands and pulled, gritting her teeth as her father continued to laugh.  
Finally the board gave way and a small grunt escaped from her tightly closed lips as Maria tumbled backwards, holding the board with both hands. She turned to see Michael return with a deadly punch of his own straight to her father's jaw. He cried a curse and fell, spitting out a bloody tooth as Michael staggered to his feet, burying his knife in the wall and dropping on top of Maria's father, pinning him to the floor, his hands going around his throat, his eyes wide with rage.  
Maria lifted the board, getting up and hefting it over her shoulder like a baseball bat as her father choked and flailed beneath Michael's bulk. She started to move towards him when she stopped, a memory racing through her mind of how she had ruthlessly strangled Tommy, feeling the anger swell over her in waves, threatening to drag her down and blinked, snapping out of it just in time to see her father slash at Michael again, cutting him across the belly and blood dripped out onto her father's jeans.  
Michael's grip loosened slightly at the shock and her father head-banged him and shoved against Michael. The two rolled across the floor until her father was on top of Michael, his back to Maria as he hammered him in the face, screaming abuse the whole time. Maria took a step forward and tapped her father on the shoulder. He whirled around, his eyes widening with surprise and fear his mouth flying open in a scream as she cracked the board across his face, blood spraying onto the walls as he slumped to the side with a gurgled cry.  
Michael sat up and got on his knees, furiously slamming her father into the floor and yanked the knife out of the wall, plunging it into her father's throat with an angry muffled yell. Maria jumped, the board falling from her hands as Michael raised the blood-stained knife and rammed it into her father's throat again. And again. She spun around and ran back down the hallway into Judith's room, opened the closet, hopped inside and shut the door, tears streaming down her face in fear as silent sobs wracked her body.  
_Oh my God what have I done?  
_ She saw her father staring at her from the floor, bloody spittle seeping out of his mouth and the ravaged piece of flesh that was once his neck. He was an abusive, self-absorbed drunk bastard, but he was _her_ abusive, self-absorbed drunk bastard of a father and a tiny twinge of guilt ran through her when all other emotions dissipated at the sound of Michael getting to his feet down the hall.  
Maria pressed against the back of the closet, fighting to stop shaking as his boots clomped down the hall and he walked into the room, his breathing ragged and torn. He looked left and right and peered under the bed, his back to her before straightening and sitting on the old mattress, wearily dropping his head into his hands. Maria blinked and leaned forward to get a better look at him as he examined the gash on his stomach and poked at it with a questioning finger, blood oozing out of the wound and staining his jumpsuit even further. A short stab of pity struck her and she was stuck between two emotions: fear and curiosity.  
He sighed and got to his feet, the pain reflecting in his eyes as he ripped the bed-sheet off the bed and cut it into large strips with his knife. Maria crept a little closer to the closet door, squinting to see through it as he struggled to tie a secure knot around his arm to slow the bleeding. She grimaced and taking a deep breath, gently pushed the door open and peeked into the room. Michael's head snapped up instantly at the sound of the wood creaking open and she met his black gaze evenly again, blinking once.  
He stared back at her but the anger in his eyes was less than before as she cautiously slipped into the open space of the room, swallowing nervously. The hand gripping the kitchen knife tensed as she took a tiny step forward and then relaxed when she moved back. Maria cocked her head to the side and looked at his wound; it wasn't deep but it was bleeding like a stuck pig. She moved a little closer, reaching out to tie the knot for him when Michael slashed at the air quicker than she could blink. Maria jumped back, muffling a cry building in her throat and stared at Michael with wide, scared eyes.  
Michael glared at her before stabbing the knife into the mattress and covering his face with his right hand, each breath from under the mask sounding tight and in pain.  
_No shit Sherlock he got stabbed in the back and smashed in the nuts, OBVIOUSLY he's going to be in some major pain!_  
Steeling her nerves, Maria nervously moved forward on her tippy-toes, her feet barely making a sound as she walked across the bedroom right up to Michael. She could see the fingers on his mask tighten and his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his neck taunt. With shaking fingers, Maria plucked at the make-shift bandage, wincing when her fingers brushed against blood and pulled it tight, tying it into a neat little knot before letting it drop and taking a big step back, exhaling.  
Michael peered at her from between his fingers and glanced at the bandage around his arm before standing up and yanking the knife out of the mattress. Maria stumbled back inside the closet, pressing herself against the wall as he eyed her, a dangerous glint in his eyes. _"No,"_ she mouthed and he stopped, giving her that curious look again. He tapped at his throat and then flexed his finger in her direction. It took her a moment but then she realized what she was asking: could she talk? _"I can talk,"_ she mouthed slowly.  
He tilted his head to the side in confusion and tucked the kitchen knife in his belt. Maria breathed a sigh of relief and gingerly walked towards him, tensed and ready to bolt out of the room if he whipped out his knife again. His black eyes ran up and down her face, studying every detail and every bruise. Rather than meet his unnatural gaze, Maria decided to look at his hands. Scarred and the skin melted in several places, they were in themselves a bit frightening. Veins bulged out underneath the rippled skin and his fingernails seemed to be eternally caked in blood and dirt. She longed to take one in her hands and trace her fingers over the gnarled skin, but she would have to be patient. She got the feeling that if she even accidentally brushed up against him that he would slash her throat.  
She lifted her head slightly and took a small step the left, trying to see around his shoulder at the nasty hole in his back. Michael seemed to sense what she was trying to do and sat down, hunching forward with his arms resting on his legs. Maria slowly walked around the side of the bed and looked at the wound; it was deep but the blood was starting to clot thankfully. She plucked one of the strips Michael had cut and turned it over in her hands before balling it up and pressing it into the wound. She could feel his muscles go rigid but he didn't move and Maria bit her bottom lip, lifting the ball slightly to see it was already soaked and dripping blood. She held the ball in her hand, lightly running over to the other side of the bed, Michael's gaze burning a hole in her back.  
Maria ripped open her backpack, letting the bloody sheet drop to the floor and hunted through her it, tossing books carelessly to the floor and pulled out the duct tape she had brought with her to school for a project she didn't even do. She scooted back over to Michael's side, grabbing a new sheet and pressing it into the wound. The duct tape screeched as she pulled out a long piece and ripped it with her teeth and taped the sheet to the hole in Michael's back, her gentle fingers pressing down the tape on his jumpsuit, the heat of his body radiating through the material. She took a step back and sighed, nervously rubbing her arms.  
Michael sat up, testing the tape's bonds and then looked up at Maria, the anger still visible in his eyes but fading, revealing thin streaks of blue in the blackness. He got off the bed, the cut in his abdomen still oozing blood and reached out with his hand. Maria instinctively flinched back, recoiling at his nearing hand and it stopped, pulling back slightly, the fingers twitching. She swallowed eyes wide and looked up at Michael in fear that she had angered him.  
But the only thing she saw in his eyes was pain.


	3. Chapter 3

He took a step back, the fingers curling in on themselves as he let his arm drop. Whatever tiny bits and pieces of blue that were once in his eyes faded as the stormy blackness took over again. His hand clenched into a fist while the other took out the kitchen knife and Maria pressed up against the wall, her heart pounding. Her eyes flickered to the hallway and she felt bile rise in her throat at the sight of her father's mutilated body; his throat torn and ravaged, his head in a pool of blood.

Michael glared at her, flexing his grip on the knife before stomping out of the room, the wood creaking and groaning underneath his weight. Maria stood there for a few minutes, staring at the spot on the wall, unable to comprehend what had just happened. _I've gotten closer to Michael Myers in the past 10 minutes then anyone has in the past 15 years,_ she thought, swaying lightly on her feet.

A stupid, giddy grin crept onto her face as she stood there for a solid 10 minutes, grinning and shaking at the wall, her limbs locked in one position. She snapped out of it when she heard the sound of wood protesting down the hall and turned, peering out into the hall just in time to see Michael disappear down the stairs, dragging her father's body with him. She recoiled in horror at the bloody streaks he left behind, and the _whump's_ his body made smacking against each step. _Dear God. _

She crept out into the hall on her toes, her Converse silent against the wood. Maria quietly trailed after him as Michael dragged her father into the kitchen, gripping him by the upper arms and letting his head loll against the side of his lower arm, his eyes fixed open in a horrified stare. She glanced around the kitchen, at the rusty highchair, the dirty plates and then continued to follow him as he pushed open the outside door.

Maria quickly ducked behind the corner of the wall as he Michael lifted his head, looking around before tossing Erik Bell in a hole leading down to the cellar, watching his body tumble down and awkwardly rest at the bottom, the dead man's eyes looking back up at him.

He marveled his work for a moment when a crash caused him to whirl around, knife in hand. The girl's head whipped up from the floor, her blue eyes wide with shock as a flush spread across her face. She scrambled to her feet, standing there with her hands clasped before picking up the chair as well, avoiding his burning gaze. He scowled at her actions, irritation pricking at his skin before shutting the back door.

That man had done a good number on him. It had been a while since he had gotten into a real fight and even though he was drunk, the man fought hard. He glanced down at the slice in his stomach and ignored the tingling pain radiating from the cut; this wasn't nearly as bad as being shot. The tourniquet in his arm was helping keep bacteria out while the balled-up sheet taped to his back compressed the amount of blood flowing out. He didn't know how he would stitch that though; he couldn't reach that single spot the man had stabbed him.

Michael's eyes drifted up to look at the girl as she began to waltz about the kitchen, her eyes scanning over everything and taking it into account. She was silent as he was, and demonstrated her ability to overcome any challenges that stood in her way. After all, she had nearly bashed her father's brains out with a wooden board; that was impressive by his standards. But he still wondered why she didn't talk if she told him she could; was she lying? Or was it in fear that if she opened her mouth, too much would come spilling out and she wouldn't be able to stop it? She was the most interesting and fascinating person he had met since Jamie; at the memory of his niece Michael's hand tightened around his knife. He knew she had died, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that called for him to come back every Halloween even though there was no more of his family left to slaughter. Like he still had a debt to pay.

He heard a rustling from one of the kitchen cabinets and turned to see the girl sitting cross-legged on the floor going through some old drawings back from when he was just a child, frowning in interest, her hair falling off to one side as she studied the sloppy crayon colored in pictures. She turned to face Michael, pointed at one of the drawings and looked at him expectantly. He sheepishly nodded and the ghost of a smile touched her lips before it faded and she dove back into examining the drawings.

He walked over beside her and glanced down over her shoulder at the scribbled stick figures on the crumpled sheets of paper. The neater ones were Judith's when she was a child. The girl stiffened slightly at his sudden closeness and fidgeted nervously on the floor, quickly putting the drawings back. For some reason he couldn't quite understand, this caused a pang of sadness and heartache to shoot through him and he flinched, gripping his knife tighter. She looked up at him, her blue eyes reflecting curiosity and concern. _"Michael?" _She mouthed his name and it caused another strong jolt of emotion to tear through him and he stumbled against the kitchen chair before viciously shoving it aside and sending it crashing to the floor.

She squeaked in fear and scrambled away as he stormed past her, one hand pressed against his forehead as he staggered out into the hall and climbed the stairs, his breathing erratic. He slumped against the wall for a moment to collect his thoughts. _What the hell is this girl doing to me?_

He leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths when he was aware of another being coming closer to him and turned, stabbing his knife into the wall inches from the girls face and she gasped, backing up and falling to the floor, her face as white as a sheet. _How the hell is she so quiet? _A low raspy growl broke out of Michael's raw throat and the girl scrambled to her feet, backing up against the opposite wall, staring at him with wide eyes before darting to her right and skidding into Judith's room.

Michael started after her, wrenching the knife out of the wall and slowly making his way down to his sister's room, his anger finally giving way. He rounded into the room, knife in hand only to discover it empty, the curtains fluttering in the breeze from an open window.

Maria stared from the bushes, panting, her backpack slung over her shoulder as she watched Michael partially hidden by the shadows scan the backyard, his eyes narrowed. She shrank farther into the foliage but after a moment's hesitation, he just turned away from the window, vanishing from sight. _Oh my God. _She couldn't stop trembling. _He tried to kill me. _

She swallowed hard and brushed away the meager tears gathering in her eyes. So much had happened in one day that it made her head spin, making the world tilt. She had to go home; it was nearly 7 o'clock and daylight was almost gone. Maria stiffly walked out of the bushes, away from the Myers house towards hers.

It took her an hour and a half of solid walking and sometimes jogging to reach her house, Andrea's Honda parked in the garage. She staggered up the porch steps, her body weary and her mind completely spent and raised her hand to knock on the door when it was wrenched open to reveal a scowling step-mother. "Where the hell you been girl?" she snapped, her blonde hair tied back in a messy bun. Maria lifelessly shrugged. "Where's Erik?" The way she said his name would've sent tingles down her spine, but now it only made Maria gag a little. "Is he out at the Blazing Pony again?" Andrea swore low under her breath, shaking her head. "Damn fool, always out there drinkin'." She looked down at Maria. "Did 'e just leave you to walk home after school, is that it?"

Maria nodded and Andrea heaved a sigh. "Well, I can yell at him in the morning. C'mon inside, you'll catch cold out here." Maria padded inside and dragged herself to her room, shutting the door and throwing herself onto the bed, hugging her pillow. As soon as her head hit that soft plushiness, the tremors came back and she couldn't stop the silent sobs coming out of her mouth, burying her head deeper into the pillow to muffle the choked sounds coming from her throat.

_I just watched my father die. I HELPED my father's murder. Am I any better than Michael?_

She lay there for a few minutes before finally slipping into unconsciousness.

She was rudely awoken by the sound of Andrea screeching into the kitchen phone _"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN HOW YOU DO IT, JUST MAKE SURE THAT FAT SONOVABITCH IS FOUND, YA HEAR?!"_

Maria winced as she slammed the phone down and sat up with a small groan, rubbing her forehead. Her whole body ached and her eyes widened as all the memories from yesterday came rushing back. The fight at school, her running from her father, her watching Michael Myers kill her father… She shook the memory from her mind and glanced at her clock; it was 11:30. _Dear God, _she thought. _I slept like a rock. _She got to her feet, swaying about and stumbled into the desk, raising her head to look at herself in the mirror.

She was a mess. Her normally brown straight hair was a rats nest, tangled up in a messy bunch on top of her head. Her mascara and eyeliner had streaked down her face from her previous crying and sobbing, leaving black trails down her cheeks all the way to her chin. Her actual face was flushed a light pink and her eyes were a bit red and Maria groaned again before walking to the bathroom.

She vigorously scrubbed every inch of makeup off her face and stripped off her dirty clothes, panning a new pair of jeans (equally ripped), a skull tank top with her Avenged Sevenfold jacket and combat boots. She ran a brush through her hair, wincing as it yanked out clumps and did her best not to make herself look like she bawled her eyes out yesterday and when she was done, she went back to her room.

Maria emptied all the contents of her backpack onto the floor, kicking aside school books and papers and put the backpack over her shoulder before walking to the front door. "Hey!" Andrea called from the kitchen, poking her head out of the doorway. "Where are you goin'?"

She wordlessly pointed to the front door and shrugged. Andrea gave her a look. "Fine but be back by dinner-time at least. And if you see your father tell him to get his lazy ass home, ya hear?" Maria nodded and opened the front door, closing it behind her and started to walk.


	4. Chapter 4

Maria trudged into town, taking great care to avoid Lampkin Lane although she suspected Michael wouldn't be there anyway. She kept sneaking glances over her shoulder to see if he was following her but saw nothing. Music radiated from the town square and the happy squeals and laughs of children vibrated in her ears. She bristled at the sound; those kids didn't know how lucky they were. She never got to experience the happiness they had but Maria brushed her feelings aside, watching as people ran around holding pumpkins and showing them off to friends and family. After all, it was Halloween Eve.

She slipped into the crowd and made her way to the pumpkin fields and broke away from the group, wandering around in the fields. Orange, yellow, red, and white pumpkins stared up at her from the ground, some as big as her backpack, others sprouting huge entangled vines. Maria bent down and picked up a pure white pumpkin, running her finger over the waxy surface before slipping it into her backpack and kept going.

She scoured the field for a suitable pumpkin, not one too big or too heavy; something just right. She glimpsed it in the far corner and held the pumpkin in her hands; something so ordinary that had become so much more. Holding it in her arms, she stood up when she felt a shadow fall over her and turned, her heart pounding to see Sheriff Bracket looming over her. She immediately relaxed.

"Maria!" he said, a grin on his face, tipping his hat to her. "I'm surprised to see you here. Usually you don't come to these sort of things. Is there a reason why you came now?" She swallowed and shrugged, adjusting her backpack, her nerves tingling. _What does he want? _She thought, and then answered her own question with _It's probably questions about Dad. _

"Maria," he said again, kneeling down so that she was taller than him, "I need to ask you a few questions, okay honey?" Her grip around the pumpkin tightened and her eye twitched. _I'm not fucking five, _she wanted to shout. Sheriff Bracket seemed to sense her irritation and held up his hands. "Listen, do you know where your dad might be? Andrea reported him missing last night and the last place anyone saw him was outside of your school. Do you know where he might've gone?"

She opened her mouth and then shut it with a frown, shifting on her feet. _Should I tell him? _She wondered, at war with herself. _Should I tell him about how Dad's dead? How Michael killed him and how I HELPED him? _She glanced up from Sheriff Bracket's waiting gaze in the direction of the Myer's house and looked back down to shake her head.

The sheriff stood up and sighed, putting a hand on his hip and brushing his hat back with his other hand. "Well, we'll keep an eye out, alright?" Maria nodded, doing her best not to break down. "Just be careful. You know what happens around Halloween, you're old enough." She nodded again and Sheriff Bracket turned and walked away, muttering under his breath.

Maria let out all the air she had been holding and wobbled on her feet, her legs feeling like jello. _Get a grip, _she told herself, steeling her nerves. A gentle breeze blew past and she reached up to fix her hair before picking up a moderate orange pumpkin and walking to one of the counters to pay. "Hey kid, how ya doin'?" The old guy asked with a smile. Maria politely smiled back and set both orange pumpkins on the counter before taking out the white one. "Oh, wow, you've got good taste," he remarked and her smile widened slightly as she dug inside the many pockets of her bag and pulled out a 20 dollar bill.

The man took it as she packed the pumpkins in her bag and gave her five dollars in change. "You have a happy Halloween, okay? Don't worry about nothin', cause nothin's gonna happen." Maria nodded at the man and started away from the town square back into the rural areas of Haddonfield. She quietly walked down the streets, ignoring the people stringing up spider-webs and hanging skeletons from their tree branches and stopped outside Michael's house. The only thing that had changed was a smashed pumpkin on the doorstep, its gooey insides strewn all over the wood and Maria narrowed her eyes. She looked up at Judith's bedroom window, searching for any signs of movement but saw nothing and kept going.

Maria kept walking down Lampkin Lane all the way to the end house on the right and knocked on the door. A young boy, about 10 years old with shaggy black hair and bright green eyes answered the door. He grinned when he saw her and she smiled back. "Hey Bell, what's up?" Maria dug inside her backpack and handed him the pumpkin and the boy laughed. "You're awesome, you know that?"

_"I know," _Maria mouthed and he leaned outside and hugged her.

"Why don't you come inside," he said and Maria hesitated before shrugging and following Zacky inside his house. For the next four hours the two of them talked (well he talked and Maria added in a few things but mostly listened), watched Insidious on his TV and carved their pumpkins before Maria decided it was time for her to leave. "Do you have to go already?" he asked her in a pleading tone and she nodded with a grimace, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder and carrying her white pumpkin, its eyes huge with rage and its mouth wide with a demonic grin. The orange carved one was tucked in her backpack.

Zacky leaned forward and hugged her and then quickly pulled away, blushing. "I-I'll see you in school on Monday," he said before shutting the door. Maria walked down the steps and glanced up; it was dark out already, sunlight faintly drifting through the trees. One half of the sky was a light pink; the other was a deep purple fading into black. She zipped up her jacket a little more, hoisted her backpack higher up on her shoulder and traveled around to the woods in Zacky's backyard, walking from there to the backyard of Michael's house.

She stayed in the bushes for a moment, scanning the upstairs for any signs of life but saw nothing. Maria took a deep breath before sprinting from her hiding place to the backdoor, opening it and slipping inside, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the door, breathing a silent prayer of thanks and crept into the living room when a peculiar sound reached her ears and she frowned, setting both the bag and the pumpkin on the floor before peeking up the stairs just in time to hear a door bang open. Laughter spilled out into the hallway and a boy and a girl stumbled out into the hall; the girl only wearing panties and a bra, the boy his boxers. "Babe, that… was… amazing," she crooned, giving him a kiss before giggling.

The guy laughed as Maria shrank behind the wall, biting her bottom lip. "Yeah baby I know. Hold on, I'm gonna grab a beer. You want anything?"

"Nah, just hurry back alright?" Maria scampered into the kitchen when a short scream cut through the air and she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Holy shit!" The guy's yell echoed throughout the house as Maria peeked up the stairs to see Michael slamming him against the wall, the guy's hand clamped around his wrist as he slowly brought the bloody knife closer and closer to the guys face. He frantically kicked and swore but it didn't do any good and Maria stepped out a little farther, gaping at the spectacle. His eyes darted down to hers and he shouted "Run kid!" Michael glanced at her from the corner of his eye and she saw the slight shock run through his gaze before he turned his attention back to stabbing the other guy.

Maria watched as he plunged the knife into the guys forehead, making him give an agonized screaming wail before going limp in Michael's grasp. He let the body drop to the floor and kicked it next to the girls in disgust before turning to look at Maria and tilted his head to the side, confusion clear in his gaze. She beckoned for him to come downstairs, and a small smile appeared on her face as he slowly clomped down the stairs. She stood in front her stuff and mouthed to him _"Close your eyes."_

He just stared at her and Maria heaved an exasperated sigh before turning and reaching into her backpack to draw out the pumpkin and held it out for Michael to see. His eyes widened when he saw it and Maria's smile grew. _"For you," _she mouthed, a slight blush spreading across her face. Tucking the knife into his belt, he gingerly reached out and took the pumpkin from her, turning it over in his hands, examining every single detail.

Maria picked up her own pumpkin and pulled out two of the candles tucked away in her bag. She put one in her pumpkin; the other in Michael's and drew out a box of matches. Setting the pumpkin on an end table, she lit the match, staring at the flame for a moment before dipping her hand inside the pumpkin and seeing the light gradually brighten from the inside, casting eerie shadows on the wall behind. Michael held out his pumpkin and Maria lit the candle in that one too.

She looked up at his face and for a moment he looked… happy. Like a child again. He set his on the opposite end table and walked back up to Maria to ruffle her hair, causing her to giggle, the bottoms of his eyes crinkled as if he were smiling beneath his mask.

And for a second, Maria knew he was.


	5. Chapter 5

But whatever small smile that had been on Michael's face faded as he let his hand fall, his eyes darkening. Maria looked up at him, worried that he might slip into an episode like he had before, throwing the chair out of the way and nearly stabbing her face off. _"Michael, what's wrong?" _she mouthed, staring at him in concern.

He shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut and slumped against the wall, covering his face with one hand, his other hand curling into a fist. She tentatively took a step towards her, her hand reaching out but then recoiling as he twisted away from her and slammed the side of his fist into the wall. She jumped as the dry wood cracked under the force of the blow and his fist sank a good two inches into the wall before he pulled his hand out, breathing a deep shuddering sigh and yanked out his kitchen knife from his belt.

Maria backed up, her heart starting to pound. _What if he can't control himself? _She thought. He turned to stare at her from the corner of his eye and she tensed before he went back up the stairs and tossed the girl's body over his shoulder, her blonde hair waving from the movement. He grabbed the guy's ankle and proceeded to drag his body down the stairs, letting his head hit each step with an amusing _thud. _

Maria stepped far out of the way, putting her hands behind her back and leaning against the wall as Michael walked past her, not even glancing in her direction. She blinked and watched as he dumped the two bodies in the same fashion he had with her father. _How can people NOT see him? _Maria wondered and then broke out of her thoughts as Michael shut the back door and leaned against it for a moment before straightening.

He went up to Maria, stopped and tilted his head at her, wondering once again why she didn't speak. She stared right back, unafraid to look into his eyes. _"Kill… her…" _A deadly voice whispered inside Michael's head and his whole body clenched in anger, the knife in hand quivering. The girl saw the action and stiffened, glancing up at him nervously.

"_No," _he mentally growled back. _"I am not going to hurt her no matter what you do to me." _The voice inside his mind gave a furious hiss.

"_It does not matter. When Samhain comes, you will obey me." _Michael felt its demonic presence fade from his thoughts and his whole body relaxed and he sagged against the opposite wall feeling miserable and somewhat jealous, closing his eyes. The voice was right. He would eventually succumb to its needs as he had 35 years ago. At least the girl had a somewhat reasonable childhood. His had been completely stripped from him since the curse took hold of his mind and body when he was six, forcing him to stab his beloved sister to death. The next fifteen years of his life were constant poking and prodding, questioning and observing- a living hell by any means. It was a horrid way to live and Michael hated, loathed every second he spent in the tiny dimly-lit room with its microscopic windows and itchy blankets.

Dr. Loomis had tried to force some answers out of him, or at the very least some reasoning but had finally come to the conclusion that Michael could not be helped and stopped seeing him. Michael knew he was there in the background though; fussing over his charts and making sure there was constant watch on him 24-7. It would have been foolish for the psychiatrist not to.

The night he had broken out, that voice told him where to go and how to get there and he obeyed, getting in the car and driving back to Haddonfield, his home. The place he _almost_ killed his sister Laurie and the place he _almost_ killed his niece Jamie.

_ALMOST._

Each time after he had failed to kill his family on Halloween the voice would punish him, sending red-hot pulsing waves of pure anguish tearing through his body and screaming incomprehensible things in his head so loudly Michael thought he would go deaf. He would have to endure this until the sun rose the next day on November 1st and the voice would recede to the back of his mind, quiet but still making itself known by whispering secrets and accounts of torture and demise in his ears. Michael would struggle to his feet and try to stay hidden, waiting until the following Halloween for another chance to be rid of the voice.

He didn't even notice her approach until he felt something cool yet warm brush the mangled skin of his hand. It took him a moment to realize he had held up his knife pressed across his face and the girl's fingers gently pushed his hand down. He blinked his eyes open and saw a flash of fear in her gaze. She knew what he could do to her if he wanted to. Michael let his arm drop and thought to himself _Why are you doing this? You're so innocent. _

The girl peered at him, her eyes wide and filled with concern, her lips slightly parted to give her an expectant, surprised look. She let her own arm fall and a gentle smile came on her face, her eyes twinkling. For a moment anger rose in Michael's chest as he thought she was laughing at him and his grip on the knife tightened. But then he saw she was just happy he was… okay.

It was a strange feeling to be cared for and he frowned at the girl's smile, wondered why she wasn't afraid of him. She looked at him a moment longer before glancing to her right. She skipped over into the kitchen and hunted through some drawers before protruding a rag and went back over to her pumpkin and began to polish its surface. He stood there awkwardly, watching her act like any normal human being would.

"_Kill her now," _the Voice rasped and a shiver ran down Michael's spine. _"Do it while her back is turned." _He slowly began to raise the knife but stopped himself and thrust him arm back down to his side while the girl scrubbed at a speck of dirt, completely oblivious to his actions behind her.

He pulled back into the shadows when she turned around and looked at him, mimicking his movements when he tilted his head to the side and did the same. He frowned and her own face pulled into a pout and he scowled at her behind his mask. Then the girl gave a soft laugh and he stared at her quizzically. She sneezed and rubbed her eyes before turning back around with a sniffle.

Michael's eyes narrowed as he started to raise the knife again, his whole body trembling when a strange sound in the distance made him step back into the light and turn his head towards the front of the house. No, it wasn't just one sound; it was a chorus of voices, whooping laughs and jeers and the slap of shoes against the asphalt. Maria frowned and looked at the front door as Michael growled and went up the stairs, his fingers flexing on the handle of his knife.

She peeked outside the window and sucked in a sharp breath, seeing the black outlines of people stumbling their way down the street. _They must've come from a Halloween party; _she thought and bit her bottom lip before quickly blowing out the candles in the pumpkins and hurrying upstairs. She ran down to Judith's room, stopped, doubled back and went into the room right next to it; just an empty room with a closet on one side, vines sprouting through the wall and climbing as high as the ceiling.

Michael stood in front of the window, gripping the windowsill and silently fuming at the group of five or six teenagers laughing and tripping into the driveway. Maria tip-toed over next to him and peeked out the window before jumping with a startled gasp as the front door downstairs banged open. Michael whirled around, his eyes wide as a loud voice called out "Mikey Mikey Myyyyeerrs! You home?" Cackling laughter ensued and Maria nervously wrung her hands.

"Hey, I have a great idea!" A person slurred downstairs. There was a giggle.

"Wazat?"

"Let's check around the house and see if he really _is_ home." It grew quiet.

"Um, I don't think that's… safe." A girl spoke up and laughter answered her. "Guys, I'm serious! No one knows what happened to the body; Michael Myers could still be alive!"

"Oh, listen to you," another girl said and Maria took a tentative step towards the door, wanting to listen better but a rough hand dragged her back. She squeaked and looked into Michael's smoldering gaze and snapped her mouth shut as he removed his huge hand from her arm. She resisted rubbing the spot where he had grabbed her and grimaced.

There was the sound of heels clicking on the wooden floor downstairs. "Well Rebecca no one said you have to come with us," the girl snapped. "Josh, c'mon I wanna see what's upstairs!"

"Fine." The light taps of stilettos and the loud squeak of sneakers coming up the stairs made Maria stiffen and she looked anxiously up at Michael. He glared at the doorway then grabbed her arm again and pulled her towards the closet, sliding it open and shutting it behind them. _OhmyGodtoocloseforcomfort! _She thought as she was crushed against him in the cramped and tiny space of the closet. Just yesterday he had tried to kill her and now? Now… well, Maria didn't really know what he was doing. She just stood there, wide-eyed, fear shooting through her veins with being so close to Michael. He brushed against her and she stiffened again only to hear the creak of metal. Maria squinted through the darkness to see what looked like an opening before rough hands lifted her from the waist off the floor and she flailed about in the air.

She gave a small sound of indignation and felt her legs press up against something cold and hard. She looked through the darkness into Michael's gaze before giving a small cry as he let her drop down through the chute. Her legs slid against the cool metal, one arm awkwardly trapped by her side and the other stuck in the air as she dropped. She slid out of the chute and tumbled head over heels to the icy cement floor, inhaling sharply between her teeth as her knee scraped against the floor.

Maria lay there, dazed before sitting up and wincing as pain throbbed through her knee. _I must've cut it, _she thought numbly, her fingers hovering above her knee. Her fingers wavered above her knee and something wet and sticky clung to her fingers and she jerked her arm back and wiped her hand off on her jeans. _Why the fuck did he shove me down a fucking laundry chute?! _Maria thought angrily before scowling at the wall. She let her arm drop and smacked against something on the floor; she picked it up and held it up higher in the air and saw it was a tennis racket. She held it in one hand.

She could hear footsteps and voices upstairs and drew her knees up to her chest, listening to the three other people talk. "I still think this is a bad idea," Rebecca commented and there was a loud sigh.

"Christ Rebecca first you don't wanna get hammered, and now you're just bein' a bitch!" That slurred voice exclaimed again. The footsteps moved to her upper right; they were in the living room.

"Hey asshole, don't' talk about my girlfriend like that," someone snarled.

"This is retarded," Another male voice mumbled and there was a loud crash. "Dammit Vinnie!" The other man cried when a sudden poke struck Maria between the shoulder blades. She jumped and turned, bringing the racket down hard on the person's head. There was a muffled grunt and Maria blinked and took a closer look to see Michael rubbing his head, wincing.

Her mouth fell open in a startled O and closed just as quickly as she dropped the racket, holding her hands up to her mouth in shock. _Oops, _she thought. She took a step towards him when there was a loud creak and a beam of light appeared on the cement floor. Michael moved faster than she could blink; in an instant he had a grip on her arm and his knife to her neck as he yanked her into the shadows. A loud gasp came out of her throat and she struggled to break out of his grasp only for Michael to press the knife tighter against her throat and she froze.

"Whoooaaaa dude." The voice belonged to Vinnie and Maria's eyes widened as he staggered down the steps, a ski cap tucked over a messy mop of brown hair as he tipped back a bottle of Captain Morgan's, his red plaid shirt conflicting with his Converse and baggy jeans. _Classic stoner, _she thought dryly and gave a tiny snort. Michael's grip on her arm tightened by a fraction but it was enough to make her suck in a pained breath. Vinnie lowered the bottle and squinted into the darkness that concealed Michael and Maria. "Mikey Myers?" he called softly, taking a step towards them. "You down… You down here?"

He took a step towards them and then another until Maria was compressed against Michael with Vinnie a mere foot away. She could hear his heartbeat in her ear but instead of it being fast-paced and light like her own, it was steady and calm, almost sluggish in a way. Vinnie frowned at where they were standing and reached out with a single hand towards them when Michael made his move. There was a flash of light from his blade and a single choked cry came out of Vinnie's mouth as a curved line cut across his neck, blood spraying out and flecking on Maria. She stumbled away with a small cry of disgust, wiping at her face as Michael stepped out of the shadows, glaring at him as the body slumped to the ground, blood pooling around his head.

It wasn't Vinnie's final, gurgled cry that got everyone upstairs' attention; it was the sound of the beer bottle slipping from his fingers and smashing to the floor in tiny brown shards. "What was that?" Footsteps pounded from the living room into the kitchen while others came down the stairs leading to the second floor.

"Hey, did you guys break something?"

"No, but Vinnie went downstairs."

Michael took a step back and glared at the stairs before quietly slipping behind them, melting back into the shadows while Maria stood there trembling, staring at her bloody hands. She looked up with a jolt as a set of sneakers began to make their way down the stairs and started to move back as a pair of high heels joined the sneakers.

"Oh my God!" The girl cried, covering her mouth with her hands as Vinnie's body became visible to them. Josh stumbled against the stairs and dropped down next to his friend. "Holy shit, Dan get down here _right now!" _ Maria backed up, her eyes wide with fear as Josh lifted his head, his angry, tear-filled gaze coming to a rest on her.

"You"- he snarled, striding over to her and gripping her arms so tightly a small whimper came between her lips- "what do you know? _What did you see?!"_

"Josh" The other girl, Rebecca came running down the stairs with Dan in tow. "Let her go, she didn't do anything!" A third person stumbled downstairs, out of breath and stopped short when he saw Vinnie's body, his mouth opening in horror. Maria glanced behind Josh and saw the glint of Michael's knife. The girl saw it as well and scrambled away with a shriek as Michael slashed at the air she had been standing moments ago, knicking her shoulder.

The four whirled around and the two girls shrieked as Michael came out of the shadows, a good four inches taller than any of them. With a strangled cry of outrage Josh leapt to his feet, abandoning Maria and with the stance of a well-trained football player, tackled Michael to the ground. Dan exchanged glances with the other guy before he leapt on top of Michael as well, pinning him to the ground while he angrily tried to stab them.

Maria backed up as Rebecca and the other girl screamed for the guys to get away when the fifth party member- the boy who came downstairs late- caught her movement and ran at her, wrapping a beefy arm around her throat and pulled out a switchblade, holding it up to the side of Maria's face. "Tell him to stop otherwise I'll cut your goddamned eye out!" he shouted. Fear shot through her and the urge to scream made a shudder run down her spine.

Maria opened her mouth and the rusty gears in her throat finally turned and she hoarsely cried _"Michael!" _A burning feeling soared down her throat as she coughed, each raspy breath making her throat burn even more as she watched Michael gain the upper hand in the fight.

With one brisk stroke his knife sang through the air and buried itself deep in Josh's chest and he yanked it out in the same fluid motion. The other girl screamed, clapping her hands over her mouth and then fainted in a heap. The boy gagged and blood trickled out of his mouth until he fell face-first onto the concrete. Dan tried in vain to wrestle the bloody knife out of Michael's grasp and turned to shout at Rebecca "Run!" before Michael's hands clamped around his throat. She scrambled upstairs as Dan fell to his knees, gasping for air.

The guy holding Maria began to tremble as he shouted at Michael "Goddammit I'll cut her face in half you fucking bastard!" _This _got Michael's attention and he angrily shoved Dan's lifeless body away and got to his feet, his eyes blazing with rage. Maria whimpered and squirmed, trying to break out of the guys grasp and causing the point of the switchblade to cut into her cheek.

She gave a small cry as she jerked out of his grip, the switchblade making a cut from the bottom of her left cheek trailing all the way up to the top of her ear. Michael growled and stormed forward, knocking the switchblade to the floor and his other hand covering the guys face as he rammed him into the wall. There was a sickening _crunch _as the back of his skull shattered and as his body slid to the ground, fluffy gray bits soaked in blood clinging to the wall behind him.

Maria's brain made the connection between the sound of his skull cracking like an egg and the gray pieces that looked like cauliflower but the thoughts didn't form in her head. Tears ran down her face as she stared at the body, her mind shutting everything else out. She didn't hear Michael move around her but her mind registered that he did, that he went upstairs and killed the other girl and then came back down to find her standing in the same exact spot with the same look of nothingness in her eyes.

She could feel the blood, _her _blood trickling down her face from the thin slice the other guy made. Her eyes flickered down to his body. He had a name, perhaps even a family even if he didn't know it. Maybe he was the captain of the newspaper club, or the schools soccer team, but either way it didn't matter anymore. No matter what status he had had in life, now he was only a hunk of flesh.

Out of the corner of her eye Maria saw Michael get down on one knee and saw his bloody hand moving towards her. She jerked away at his touch but turned to face him anyway with a blank stare, unblinking. She saw actual worry in his eyes as he looked at the cut on her face and a pained look came across his face. He opened his front right pocket of his jumpsuit and produced a simple band-aid and put it across the cut and wiped the excess blood away with the collar of his sleeve.

Maria swallowed before croaking out "Michael." He looked straight into her eyes and she burst into tears, burying her head in her hands. She just cracked under the pressure and stress. Open sobs wracked through her body and she felt Michael recoil in worry in fear that he had done something wrong. She wiped at her face with the back of her hands and threw herself at him, wrapping her slender arms around him and crying into his shoulder.

She felt him flinch and stiffen at first contact but then he hugged her back. _He cares more about me than my actual father did, _she thought as she stifled her pathetic sobbing and pulled away, wiping at the eyeliner smears running down her face when a moan made them both turn. The girl who had fainted stirred, blinking her eyes open and Michael stood, taking the knife out of his belt. She started to scream, scrabbling at the floor in desperation. "No! No! No!" She looked directly at Maria and shrieked "Help me!" but Maria just stood there and ignored her.

Maria closed her eyes until the screaming had stopped and she felt Michael's hand on her shoulder. He led her up the stairs but stopped when he saw her knee. He bent down and scooped her up into her arms and she squealed, hugging his neck as he walked through the kitchen and upstairs. She didn't have her previous fear before of being so close to him; her voice had broken through some of the boundaries. Maria lay her head on his shoulder and heard his raspy breathing behind his mask. _I wonder what his face looks like? _she thought and then dismissed it with an _I don't care. _

She yawned as Michael stopped outside of Judith's room and then walked inside and set her down on the bed. She pulled the dusty blankets up around her and then sat up and hugged a retreating Michael around the neck. He shook his head and gently pried her arms off. "What?" she asked and then coughed again. Her throat wasn't used to speaking. In response Michael held up one arm and pulled down his sleeve slightly to reveal a mark that looked slightly like a 4 if you moved the triangle part down more to the middle.

Maria frowned at it but he was already moving out of the room. He looked at her one last time before disappearing down the hall. She heard his boots clomp up another set of stairs and go across the ceiling before stopping. Then silence. _He must be in the attic, _she thought to herself. She liked thinking more than speaking out loud; your mind was private, your thoughts a secret only you knew. Words were open and out-loud. They could build empires but at the same time also destroy them.

She laid her head down on the pillow and pulled the thin blanket tighter around her. It was a good thing she was wearing a jacket; the cool October air seeped into the house. She didn't know how tired she was until her head hit the cotton; almost instantly her eyelids flickered. _Andrea's gonna be pissed, _she thought quietly before drifting off.


	6. Chapter 6

Michael's eyes opened as he sat up, his movements stiff and almost mechanical. His head throbbed and ached, pulsing under his touch, most likely from the round of blows to the head from last night. As the memories came back he recalled the girl's voice finally breaking free from her throat; raspy and dry, but beautiful nonetheless. To think someone would try to hurt her… Michael could not stand it. The anger and rage that had jolted through him was even more powerful than when the

Voice sent it shooting through his body and he had crushed the man's head as easily as an egg. The very thought of someone hurting her sickened him. The way she hugged him… as if he were her own father. _But I'm not. I killed her father, _Michael thought numbly. Why did she care for him as if he was any other human being? The girl acted like he was family. Michael just couldn't understand it.

He swung his legs out of the tiny cot and got up only to hear the Voice boom in his head _"KILL HER! I WANT HER DEAD __now__!" _He clapped his hands on either side of his head, squeezing his eyes shut against the noise. _"DO AS I SAY! KILL HER! KILL HER!" _He stumbled against a table and gripped his head tighter as pain began to shoot down his spine.

_"No!" _he mentally shouted back, falling to his knees. _"I won't hurt her!"_

_"Do as I say boy!" _ It boomed inside his head.

_"No!"_

Maria blearily opened her eyes to hear a loud thump come from upstairs. She sat up with a slight groan, the stiff blanket crinkling under her touch, light filtering in through the boarded-up window. Her knee hurt but her face felt like it was on fire, tingling with pain. She cautiously reached up to touch it but stopped when she saw her stained fingers. She gulped and gently ran the tips of her fingers down the side of her face, her whole body aching from last night. She shuddered at the memory of how Michael had mercilessly slaughtered the teenagers but had carried her upstairs with the grace and gentleness of someone she had never known.

She tossed the blanket aside. _Holy shit Andrea's probably having a heart attack! _She thought and her heart started to pound but she took a deep breath and stood up, looking up at the ceiling. _Where's Michael? _She thought and winced as she cracked her back before quietly padding out of the room.

The house seemed eerily quiet and still, as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. She made her way down to the end of the hall and paused outside the attic door. _Maybe I shouldn't go up… _she thought, biting her bottom lip and looked at the handprint on her upper arm, recalling how he grabbed her last night. It didn't hurt but the skin was black and blue, purple branching out in all different directions.

"Ow…" she murmured and then frowned at herself, stifling a cough building in her throat. It felt so strange to talk. She was unsure whether or not to start talking again or only talk to Michael. He, after all, was the one who got her to talk. The look in his eyes the other night when the boy had cut her… it was frightening. The sheer rage and hate made Maria want to curl up in a ball and die. There was another sudden thud from upstairs and her head snapped up, her thoughts vanishing instantly. She reached for the knob; grasped it, the metal an icy clump in her hand and turned it.

Maria ascended the stairs, marveling at the assortment of items that were scattered about the room. Ice skates, a bathtub, a rocking horse, and unlit candles everywhere. Her eyes drifted to the floor and a gasp came out of her mouth as she saw Michael on his knees, hunched over in pain, gripping the back of his head, knife in hand.

She hurried to his side, fear fluttering through her. What was wrong with him? "Michael?" she said quietly, her voice breaking through the thick and cluttered silence that had accumulated in the attic. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder and then he moved.

Michael jerked away from her touch, the knife flashing as it whipped through the air. Maria leapt back, a high-pitched shrieking gasp coming from her mouth as the knife cut through the air she had been moments ago. She looked up, wide-eyed, terrified as Michael stood, his eyes two black pools. He slashed at her again and she tripped over her own two feet as she sprinted for the stairs, her heart in her throat.

Maria fled down the steps, her foot catching on the last one and her momentum sent her sprawling across the hardwood floor. She glanced up to see Michael's form at the top of the stairs and a whole new kind of fear jolted through her. _Why?! _She wanted to scream at him but instead she scrambled to her feet with a small cry, sprinting down the hall, her footsteps pounding on the wood. _Why?_ She thought again as she pushed off the opposite wall and ran down the stairs, her breath coming out in short gasps.

She felt like collapsing in a heap and bawling her eyes out like the child she was. _I'm just a little kid, _she thought to herself. _Why does it seem like the world is against me? What did I do wrong? _She wanted her mom to hold her and assure her everything would be alright, but even that had been stripped from her. She stopped short in the hall and turned to see Michael at the top of the stairs, knife in hand, his eyes blazing. He put one foot on the top stair and Maria turned, running into the kitchen but stopping short, her eyes wide.

It was the girl from last night.

She was still alive.

"Oh my God," Maria choked out, covering her mouth with her hands. The girl was strapped to the table, bound by ropes while slashes across her chest still faintly bled. Blood coated the table and streaked down the sides, dripping to the floor. Her glasses were cracked but still on her face, her brown hair streaked with blood.

She stirred at Maria's voice and opened her eyes to reveal her blue irises. "Run," she rasped, and her blood gurgled in her throat. Maria backed up only to bump into something and she whirled with a scream to see Michael standing there. He glared down at her and she stumbled back against the girl and jerked away from her twitching body with a small cry of revulsion, clapping her hands over her mouth. Michael slowly made his way towards her, his eyes narrowed and Maria shoved open the back door, jumping over the hole dug in the ground and falling onto the grass, twisting and scrambling in the dirt. She got to her feet and without another thought, ran.

Michael watched the little girl shove through the bushes and run, her hair streaming out behind her. A terrible burning started in his heart but he ignored the feeling and turned to the girl still strapped on the table. She watched him with weak eyes and whispered "Don't hurt her." In response he plunged the blade deep into her chest and she fell silent, her eyes clouding over. He yanked out his knife and held it down by his side.

He felt guilty in a way about what he had done. The girl had allowed herself to go to him, to show him kindness and he had repaid her by trying to kill her. Twice. She had helped him, perhaps even loved him as a father but he just took all her actions and compressed them deep down inside himself. He wanted her to fear him, to loathe his very presence. Why she hadn't to begin with was baffling. There was nothing left of him to salvage and to morph into something remotely human, but somehow the girl managed to piece together fragments of his former self. But whatever she had done, whatever she had tried to do Michael merely crushed it.

Why he had even put up with her in the first place was astounding. He had so many opportunities to kill her and he didn't take the chance. He was becoming weak being around the girl. She was an obstacle that needed to be removed.

_"Go after the girl," _the Voice hissed and Michael barely resisted its dominating control over him and stepped off the porch, slipping into the shadows. He had a job to do and a whole new kind of power surged through him as he heard the screams of small children from down the street.

After all, it was Halloween.


	7. Chapter 7

_Oh my God._

_ Oh my God._

_ He tried to kill me._

_ He tried to KILL ME!_

Maria just couldn't get the thoughts out of her head as she burst from the woods onto the street, panting, people giving her strange looks. She looked around and felt a tingle run down her spine and Maria clenched her fists. She knew Michael was trailing after her, but he wouldn't attack her out in the open. Just thinking about him felt like there was a huge rock being shoved into her middle. She felt sick as she staggered down the sidewalk, stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets.

_Why would he…? _She thought and felt tears starting to gather in her eyes. She wiped them away with a sniffle, letting her hair form a wall between her and the outer world. Every place he touched her, every place he even looked at her now felt dirty and vile. Maria shuddered and pulled the hood over her head, a single tear tracing down her cheek.

She had thought… she had thought that he could've been like a father to her. _I must be insane if I ever thought that psycho would treat me as a human being, let alone a friend,_ she thought gloomily, glancing as a crowd of squealing elementary kids ran by. She bristled and dug her hands deeper into her pockets. Andrea was going to kill her when she got home, _if _she ever got home.

Maria trudged down the sidewalk, just passing Zacky's house when his door opened. "Hey Maria!" he called out and she turned, lifting her head just slightly so she could see the grin stretched across his face as he held up his arms in a gun-show position. A faint smile touched her lips as he ran down his steps, stopping short in front of her.

_"Nice Grim Reaper costume," _she mouthed, admiring the long jagged black robe and the scythe in his hand, the blade chipped but still gleaming.

"Thanks," he said and then frowned at her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hey, what are you doing wandering about without a costume on? And what are you doing wandering around in the first place? Andrea's gonna flip a shit when you go home." Maria hung her head and scuffed her foot against the sidewalk, her shoulders slumping in a shrug. _Should I tell him about…? _She wondered.

Zacky snapped his fingers. "Tell ya what; I'll take the blame for it." Maria's head jerked up and she met him with wide eyes, her thoughts disappearing for a moment. He glanced down at her and laughed. "I'll just say I forced you to stay over to help me work on a project, and you got so tired you fell asleep!"

_"Really?" _she mouthed.

"Really," he said and she grinned at him, flipping her hood off. "C'mon, I'll tell my mom to drive you back home since you live out in, like, the middle of nowhere." He waved her inside and Maria stepped in after him, the fragrance of lilacs heavy in the air.

_"Moooooom,"_ Zacky called down the hall, cupping his hands over his mouth while Maria stood in the doorway, not wanting to get this white carpet dirty. She looked over at the expensive leather couch, the flat-screen TV but not once had she ever felt a twinge of jealousy. He nervously glanced outside, scanning up and down the block but there was no sign of Michael.

The soft padding of sneakers on tile made Maria look up as Mrs. Barker came from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. She wore a plain shirt and jeans, her hair tied in a bun, her eyes sparkling. "Oh hello Maria! It's nice to see you again," she greeted her and Maria nodded sheepishly, giving the woman a courteous wave and smile while on the insides her stomach was tying itself into knots as she pictured Michael bursting through the front door and stabbing out Mrs. Barkers brains. She ignored the ghastly images floating through her mind and focused on the conversation taking place in front of her.

"Ma, can we drive Maria home?"

"Oh, sure honey!"

Moments later Maria was huddled in the backseat, staring out the window while Mrs. Barker's Audi hummed softly underneath her. Zacky was in the front, tapping his fingers on the dashboard. There was the sound of sirens wailing in the distance and all three looked up as four police cruisers flew past, sirens blaring. "Wow. They're headed for the Myers house," Zacky murmured.

Mrs. Barker sighed and shook her head. "Terrible things have happened in this town. Awful, horrible things." Maria frowned at the fading police cars and wondered if any of the bodies had been found. Maybe they even found Michael and were heading in his general direction. She wondered where Michael was, if he was following her… and what he was going to do to her if he found her. How she had even slept at the old, decaying house made a shudder run down her spine. _He could've killed me anytime he wanted. Why did I even go there in the first place? How much more idiotic can I get? And why did I help him kill my _own _father?!_ She thought to herself and bit on her tongue as tears rose to her eyes. She didn't want the memory to resurface; the life fading from her father's eyes, the blood bubbling from his lips…

"Hey Maria, we're almost there." Zacky's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and Maria lifted her head as the dirt road pulled into view, their little house sitting in the middle of the woods. The car bounced up and down as they traveled down the dirt road, Maria's small yellow house growing bigger and bigger. The closer they got to the house, the more nervous she got until the Audi rumbled to a stop.

She opened the door and stepped outside, inhaling sharply as the frigid October air swirled around her. The front door to her house creaked open and then burst open as Andrea stormed out, scowling as Mrs. Barker got out of the car. "You!" she shouted, stabbing a finger in Maria's direction. "Where the hell have you been?!"

"Mrs. Bell, I can explain…" The words sent a pang of sadness and anger into her side as Mrs. Barker addressed Andrea as Mrs. Bell. _She's not my mother, _Maria thought. _She's not Mrs. Bell._

"I don't care!" Andrea snapped and Mrs. Barker fell silent, glaring at Maria's stepmother. "Thank you for bringing her home. I'll take care o' this one now."

Maria was so rigid seeing the anger and annoyance in Andrea's eyes that she didn't hear Zacky creep up behind her and when he gently touched her shoulder she whirled with a gasp, her hand flying out. "Whoa!" He caught her fist as Maria lowered her hand, shocked that she had almost socked her friend in the face.

_"I'm so sorry!" _she mouthed and he laughed. "Chill. I'll see you later on tonight, okay?" She nodded and as he gave her a parting hug, felt a tear squeeze from the corner of her eye. Zacky climbed back in the Audi and pressed his hand against the window, a sad look on his face. Maria let her face crumple as the car turned and drove away, seeing Zacky's face shrink until his expression was unreadable. Only then did Andrea approach her.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and whirled her around and a sharp smack echoed through the air as Andrea's open palm made contact with Maria's cheek. Maria dropped without a sound, one hand going to her burning cheek and glared at her stepmother through her fingers. "Where were you?" she screamed down at her as Maria got to her feet, still cupping her face with one hand. When she didn't respond, Andrea yelled "Answer me dammit! I'm your mother!"

Maria's eyes widened and she tore her hand down from her face, balling both hands up into fists at her sides. Red hot boiling anger swarmed over her in huge waves as she opened her mouth. _"Just shut the fuck up you miserable fucking BITCH!" _Maria screamed, her throat cracking and burning.

Her reaction would've made Maria laugh if the situation wasn't so screwed up; Andrea recoiled as if she herself had been slapped as Maria stood there, breathing hard, struggling not to cough. She stared at her stepmother with her wide eyes as she raised a hand to her mouth, her fingertips barely brushing her lips. "You," Maria snarled, "are _not _my mother."

She stormed past the stunned Andrea and kicked open the door to her house, the first of her sobs breaking through her lips. She walked down the hall to her room, threw the door open, locked it and collapsed on her bed, letting everything come out in her gut-wrenching sobs and tears. _Why me? Why me? Was I born wrong? What the hell did I do to make everything so fucked up?_ She cursed herself in her mind. She held her breath when she heard the front door open but at the sound of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen, Maria kept going, hearing Andrea's murmurs and sobs from the kitchen.

She stuffed her head into her pillow and gave three deep, racking coughs and when she lifted her head, the pillow was flecked with red. Sudden relief flooded through her and the tears stopped as she stared at her blood dotting her pillow. She spat into her palm and saw red mixed in with the saliva and wiped her hand on her mattress before getting up and peering outside. No sign of Michael. Not yet at least. She knew he would come for her. Perhaps it would be better if she went along with him, or at least had him kill her. Anything would be better than staying with Andrea.

Maria walked to her closet, stripping off her dirty clothes and pulling out her Halloween costume. A small, thin smile crept onto her lips when a knock on her door made her jump.

"Maria? M-May I come in?"

She wordlessly walked over and opened the door, regarding her stepmother with an ice cold glare. Andrea's face was blotchy and red as well, with tears running from her eyes. "They found your fathers' body outside the Myers' house," she whispered and Maria froze, staring at some invisible speck right behind Andrea. Her voice seemed to grow distant. "Some sick fuck… killed…" She broke down in tears but Maria made no move to comfort her groveling stepmother.

"God, it was awful!" Andrea cried, lifting her head. "There were… there were eight other people found around that damned house. Eight! Some psychopath is recreating the Michael Myers legend!" Maria still didn't say anything. Andrea tipped her head back and gave a high-pitched laugh before stumbling against the wall, muttering incoherently under her breath as she shuffled back to the kitchen.

Maria closed her bedroom door, took a breath and let it out slowly before picking up her costume again. It was simple really; she was going as a vampire. She pulled on the red T-shirt and tight black skinny jeans, the chains dangling and laced up her combat boots before running a brush through her hair. She walked over to her mirror and put on mascara and concealer, making her already pale complexion appear stark white with hollowed out cheeks and sunken eyes.

She stuck the fake fangs on top of her canines and bared her teeth; with the makeup on she really did look vicious. Satisfied, Maria went to look out her window again when a crash from the kitchen made her whirl, her eyes wide and her heart leaping into her throat. "God_dammit!"_ Andrea's scream from the kitchen made Maria relax as she sat, almost daintily upon her bed, folding one leg over the other. She glanced half-heartedly out her window and sighed, letting her head thunk against the wall when another crash echoed from the kitchen.

_Clumsy bitch, _Maria thought and then frowned, lifting her head. There was silence. Her heartbeat started to pick up as she uneasily got off her bed, taking one small step to her door when the familiar sound of boots reached her ears. _Holy shit! _She cried inside her head and backed up as a familiar figure rounded the corner and barged into her room.

"M-M-Michael," Maria stuttered, glancing down to see his bloody kitchen knife. She looked back up into his black, emotionless gaze and swallowed, a small whimpering sound coming from between her lips. He regarded her with a cold stare before stepping forward and in one smooth movement slammed the door behind him, glaring at her. _Oh no, _she thought.

Maria started to tremble, little shivers running through her as the back of her legs hit the bed. _"Please," _she mouthed but he did nothing but take another step towards her, raising the knife, rage gleaming in his gaze. She gave a small squeal and ducked under the blade as he stabbed at her, the knife sinking into her mattress. Her heart was in her throat as she fled to her door, grabbing the handle and yanking it open the same time Michael leaned over and slammed it shut again, scowling at her as if she would even try to escape.

Maria stumbled against her dresser as Michael brought the knife down again; this time his weapon sinking a good two inches into the thick oak. She could see the irritation and anger in his eyes and the muscles in his neck popped out as he tried to wrench the knife from the wood. Maria scrambled onto her bed and pushed on the windowsill, the wood creaking and snapping in small splinters. She crawled out headfirst, squirming, trying not to get pierced but gave a small cry when a hand clamped down on her leg. She kicked, feeling her foot sink into something and his grip loosened and she tumbled to the ground four feet below.

Maria lay there in a crumpled heap, dazed before getting to her feet, stumbling, one hand pressed to her head. A small groan came out of her throat and she looked up to see Michael leaning out her window, glaring at her. She took a few uneasy steps backward, coughing into her cupped hands and when she removed her palms, they were dotted with blood. "Look!" she cried, holding them up for Michael to see. "I'm dying already," she said, letting her arms fall and turning as the sound of a car engine reached her ears.

She turned to see a black car racing down her little dirt road and quickly ducked behind a tree. When she glanced back at her room there was no one there. _Where are you…? _She wondered and then ducked further as the car came to a screeching halt right outside her house and the driver's door was thrown open as a man came out. Maria inhaled sharply when she saw his face; it was Dr. Loomis.

"Maria!" The old man cried, cupping his hands over his mouth, looking around, his black trench coat fluttering in the wind. "Please, answer me! I'm here to help you!" Maria cautiously stepped out from behind the tree when she was aware of a presence behind her. She turned only to see Michael looming behind her and opened her mouth to cry out when he slapped his hand over it, one arm going around her neck.

Dr. Loomis turned as Michael dragged Maria out of the trees and gave a short sound of alarm. "Michael, put that little girl down this instant!" She clung onto his arm, the gleaming knife only inches away and struggled uselessly in his grasp. _He wasn't like this before, why is he like this now?! _She thought.

"Michael, please!" Dr. Loomis pleaded. "I know the rage is controlling you, but killing her won't make it stop!"

At those words Maria stopped struggling and frowned at Dr. Loomis. _…Rage? Is that what he tried to show me before with that mark on his arm? _She wondered. She frantically pointed to Michael's arm and thrashed in his grasp. She could feel him scowling down at her from behind that pale mask as if he knew what she was trying to signal. Dr. Loomis's eyes flickered to Maria's pointing and then met her eyes for an instant, and she saw recognition flash through his. "Michael," he said quietly, "don't kill her. If you have to take a life, then please… take mine."

She felt Michael stiffen slightly and the arm around her throat slackened. With a low growl Michael released her and stormed at Loomis, driving the knife right in the old mans right shoulder. Dr. Loomis gave a cry of pain and fell to his knees, grabbing at Michael's jumpsuit. He looked right at Maria and shouted hoarsely _"Run!"_

And run she did.


	8. Chapter 8

Maria bolted from the scene, sprinting into the woods as she heard Dr. Loomis give an anguished cry. She glanced behind her and through the thin streams of hair flickering into her eyesight she could see the old man fall and Michael turn to glare at her, his eyes two burning coals. She whipped her head back around and ran into the woods, cutting a path directly through the forest.

_Jesus Christ, _she thought. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Her lungs were on fire as she darted through the trees, not stopping or looking back once. Maria kept going, wanting to get away from her house as far as possible. She would run to the end of the world if she had to. But Fate was very cruel to her it seemed and a few moments later her toe caught on a rock and it sent her sprawling into the leaves and dirt.

Maria fell with an _oof! _coming from her mouth as the wind was knocked out of her . She blinked a couple of times before slowly pushing herself to her feet, brushing the dirt off her jeans and shirt with shaking hands. She staggered over to the nook of an ancient oak tree, its roots twisting and curling up and out of the ground, the bark gnarled and withered and sat down beside it, leaning against the trunk.

She let her head rest against the cool chipped bark and closed her eyes, breathing out a shuddering sigh before drawing her knees up to her chest. "Help," she whispered to no one in particular. She had never felt so small, so insignificant. "Why?"

She didn't realize she was crying until she saw the tiny circular stains settling into her jeans. Maria wiped at her face and patted it dry with her shirt, wiping away the excess makeup. She gave a little hiccup and brushed her hair out of her face, sucking in a shuddering breath. She didn't want to hurt anybody. She had never wanted to hurt, let alone kill he father. Yes, she had hated him, despised him, loathed him but he was her father and now he was dead. Andrea was most likely dead as well; Maria would've heard her scream of cry out if she was alive. But she didn't care about her. She had no relationship with that woman; Maria most certainly did not regret her death.

However though, without Andrea, where would she go? Maria had no other family that she knew of. Christmas had always been her and her father, and up until a few years ago, her, her father and Andrea. There had never been any secretive gifts sent from an unknown person, no special birthday cards that would unexpectedly show up in their mailbox. She could live with Zacky… but Maria pushed the thought out of her mind. That would be too awkward but she would much rather live with her best friend than go in an orphanage.

A sharp sudden crack echoing through the woods made her jump. Maria's shot up as she looked around with wide eyes, her heart pounding. She slowly got to her feet and pushed herself off the tree, running in the opposite direction. She pushed through branches and leaves and looped back around through her backyard, hiding behind their raspberry bush. Fleeting memories of her and her father picking raspberries in the summer darted through her head but vanished just as quickly. She glanced around before running for the back door, opening it and slipping inside the kitchen.

Maria shut the door and took a few precious steps back before her foot bumped against something. She turned and gasped, stumbling against the kitchen counter. Andrea's body was lying on the floor, one of her arms twisted at an unnatural angle, her eyes glazed over and her mouth slightly open. A dark red pool had spread out from her arm and from the slash mark across her throat. Maria stepped away from her body, sucking in little breaths of air and opened one of the kitchen drawers, pulling out a kitchen knife like Michael's. She held it for a moment before slipping it into her boot, making sure it didn't prick her if she walked.

She crept forward, ducking behind the couch and peered out the window through the bottom blind. She watched Dr. Loomis stumble against his car, holding a cellphone to his bloodied lips. She couldn't hear what he was saying but the sound of sirens in the distance slowly got louder and louder.

The police were on their way.

Maria took a step back when there was a loud crash and she whirled around to see Michael shove himself through their broken back door. Her breath hitched in her throat and she pressed herself against the back wall, wanting to disappear. "Michael please," she whispered, slowly inching her way to the front door as he took two steps towards her, gripping his knife tightly in his hand. "You weren't like this before…"

At those words he stopped, blinking in surprise. Maria stopped as well, looking at him expectantly, her body tensed and ready to bolt for the door if she needed to. "I know you don't want you don't want to hurt me," she said softly, stepping away from the wall. "If you wanted to kill me you would've done it before."

She saw him recoil and the realization of this flash in his eyes. The grip on the knife loosened slightly and Maria took a single step towards him when the front door busted open, banging against the wall. She screamed and jumped back as police officers and S.W.A.T. members flooded the front room, their footsteps sounding in a loud drum rhythm. "Don't move!" they shouted, drawing out guns and huge automatic rifles, red dots swarming all over Michael. "Drop the weapon! We have you surrounded!" The sounds of a helicopter roaring above them made Maria want to clap her hands over her ears and drown the noise out. This was all too much. She felt like she was going to explode from the pressure and intensity of the situation. Maria looked at him in fear, thinking he would lash out and kill one of the cops.

But all Michael did was slowly hold up both hands, allowing his knife to slip out of his fingers and stab into the ground below. She stared at him in shock and he lowered his head. _What is he doing? _She wondered. _They're going to kill him! _Maria wanted to scream at him to run but her mouth wouldn't move to form the words.

Exchanging glances three of the S.W.A.T. members began to move forward, taking out tazers and handcuffs. The second one got within two meters of him; however, Michael lunged, his hands going around the man's head. "Michael no!" Dr. Loomis and Maria shouted at the same time but their voices were drowned out by the hailstorm of bullets that shot from every gun and embedded themselves into his body.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as his body dropped lifelessly to the ground. A echoing, deafening boom sounded in her ears the second he fell and she winced, a shudder running down her spine. Those black eyes hidden behind the pale mask closed for the last time. Maria could hear Dr. Loomis swearing and raving behind her as more officers came inside, surrounding his body as the cop he tried to kill scrambled away with a small cry. Maria backed up against the wall, one hand pressed to her mouth. One of the officers bent beside her asking if she was alright and she couldn't respond, her eyes still focused on his body.

_He's dead. He's actually dead, _she thought. "We have a body in the kitchen!" a voice called and a nerve in her hand twitched, her fingers clenching and unclenching.

"Maria?" She didn't look up as Sheriff Bracket knelt next to her, waving the stray officer off. "Maria? Are you alright?" _He's dead, _she whispered to herself. "Maria, I don't know if Andrea already told you, but… your father is dead." She allowed her gaze to slip from his body to stare at the star on the sheriff's shirt. "He was murdered by Michael Myers, the man who tried to kill you." She still didn't say anything, taking in a tiny breath. He paused before adding "Maria, did this man kidnap you? We have reports saying you were spotted running away from the Myer's house earlier today, is this true?"

She didn't speak a word.

"Maria, I need you to answer me!" Sheriff Brackett said loudly, irritation ringing clear in his voice.

"Sheriff." The weak rasp made Maria turn her head to see Loomis wearily put a hand on the trembling sheriff's arm. "She's in shock, she's not going to say anything for a while." The sheriff stared at her for a solid 30 seconds and she evenly matched his gaze, her eyes burning. Finally with a sigh he stood, pulling out his walkie-talkie and muttering things in it. Out of the corner of her eye Maria could see four or five cops stuffing Michael into a black body bag, blood speckling the floor and lightly tainting the walls. She resisted the urge to throw up and bit down on her tongue.

"Maria," the old man said, standing next to her, "we need to discuss a few things." She twisted her head to see him staring down at her with a pain-filled gaze, his eye clouded over with despair. One gloved hand was clasped to his shoulder; his shirt and jacket were soaked with the red liquid. _Red is such a pretty color, _she thought numbly. He bent down and put two hands under her arms and tugged her to her feet.

It was only when Dr. Loomis tried to drag Maria out of the room that she screamed and wrenched out of his gasp. "No!" she cried, wrestling out of his grip and darting back to her previous spot against the wall, breathing in and out in little gasps, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm not leaving!" she said stubbornly and Sheriff Brackett stood, walking over to her. She pressed against the wall, her face red and her eyes feverishly darting about to the surprised and confused faces of the police officers. She didn't even notice the Sheriff come up next to her and only when his shadow fell over her did she shrink against the wall, staring at him with a wide-eyed gaze.

"Maria, we have to get you out of here," he said as he picked her up. She screamed, thrashing, kicking and punching, her eyes squeezed shut. The sheriff grunted as he led her outside and only then did she yank something out of her boot. The sheriff cursed, awkwardly holding onto the girl with one arm as his hand shot up to grasp the knife she had suddenly aimed at him. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed and two more cops hurried over, prying the Maria away from him. They shoved her in a cop car, the little girl breaking down in hysterical screaming sobs, punching the seat.

"Are you alright sir?" One of them asked and he nodded, twirling the knife in his fingertips before handing it off to another officer.

"Myers really fucked this one up," Sheriff Brackett muttered, shaking his head and turning as Loomis came up next to him.

"We should schedule her in at Smith's Grove," the old doctor said quietly. The sheriff turned to stare at the psychiatrist with a mixture of shock and expectancy.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Dr. Loomis wearily faced the sheriff, clasping his shoulder. "You saw how she just acted. Michael obviously did something to her mind to make her be this way." He sadly looked at the screaming figure in the cop car. "It could still be a state of shock or denial, but I need to evaluate her to be sure."

Sheriff Brackett nodded and sighed. "Well, considering that as of today she has no immediate family I'll let you sign off on this one doc. Just don't screw around with her head too badly."

Dr. Loomis glared at the back of the retreating man and looked once more at Maria in the car, now having gone silent, staring at the seat with a blank and empty expression. "Michael," he whispered, "now what have you done?"


	9. Chapter 9

Maria sat in the back of the cop car, angrily panting in and out through clenched teeth. The sheriff had no right to handle her like such a child. _He doesn't know anything! _She thought angrily. _He thought my life was great before Michael came along and they just ruined __**everything!**_ Her head fell and she twisted to look out the window to see Dr. Loomis and Sheriff Brackett discussing something, the old psychiatrist pointing to the cop car and making gestures with his hands. Maria sneered at his actions; he just wanted to ruin everything as well. She couldn't trust any of them. Anger built up inside her, bubbling like hot lava, making her lungs burn. She breathed hard, fighting back more tears and angrily wiped at her face, scrubbing the makeup off and wiping away her useless tears.

_Michael's dead, and I'm not sure whether to be glad or sad, _she thought numbly. She shook her head. Either way, crying didn't do her any good, and she could only guess what Loomis had in store for her. She had to make it seem like everything was alright so he could let her go, although she doubted that it would be that easy. She clenched her small hands into fists and glanced out the window as both the sheriff and the doctor headed for the cop car. She immediately hid her head and wiped at her eyes, trying to make them redder while at the same time sniffling.

The second Sheriff Brackett stepped inside the car, Maria sucked in a shivering breath and hiccupped "A-Andrea's d-dead?" while at the same time expectantly looking back and forth between the two men, sucking in the snot in her nose.

The Sheriff exchanged glances with Dr. Loomis and then twisted around in his seat to face Maria who was sniffling and trembling. She looked nothing like the angry, hateful child that had attacked him only moments before. The burning look of hate in her eyes almost reminded him of Myers when they had hunted him down years ago, corning him in the cemetery with his niece safely tucked away in his car. But this was just a little girl who had lost her whole family, she couldn't be like Michael, she couldn't be this hateful… right? _Things are never as they seem, _he thought to himself before clearing his throat, addressing the girl in a monotone voice. "Yes, Maria, she is." He didn't say anything further but was startled by the agonized sob bursting from her throat.

Maria covered her face with her hands, feeling snot and tears trickle through her fingers, sucking in rasping gasps while blubbering "She was the only family I had left, she can't be gone she can't…" She peeked through her fingers to see them look at each other with a mixture of surprise and shock and she mentally cursed herself. _Dammit, did I go too far? _She toned down her pathetic sobbing just a little bit and wiped at her face again before settling in the corner of the cop car, silent.

Dr. Loomis shifted in his seat to look at the little girl who was staring silently at the window as the police stuffed Michael's body bag into an ambulance. He saw a slight flash of mixed emotions run through her gaze but they disappeared again. "Maria." She looked up with void eyes, nothing in them. The doctor was almost taken aback at how dark they were, as if all the light in them had vanished. "Considering that your immediate family has been-

"-killed," Maria said bluntly with no recognition on her face as the cop car started forward.

"…Yes, well, to put it bluntly… But at any rate, I think it would be best for you considering the position that you're in right now for you to go to Smith's Grove for a little while." He waited for her to say something, but she only blinked and looked away as the car pulled away from her old house. "Is that okay with you?"

She gave a slow nod and said nothing more. Dr. Loomis glanced at her for a moment before turning back in his seat and settle in for the half hour drive to the hospital. The sheriff glanced at him once and sighed but for the rest of the car ride there was a thick, heavy silence that seemed suffocating until they were almost there when Maria suddenly spoke up, sliding forward in her seat. "Dr. Loomis." The man turned around, eager to hear what she had to say.

"Yes?"

Her eyes looked dead, dull and glassy and she leaned forward until she was right up against the glass separating the two of them. "Most of my things will get sent to the hospital, right?"

"Yes. We will arrange for your clothes and some personal items to be brought to you while you stay here. On that note, do you have anything sentimental that you want to be brought to the hospital?" Maria sat quietly for a moment, he gaze downcast before she raised her eyes to meet the doctors' again.

"My iPod. And, perhaps… my makeup kit."

Dr. Loomis cleared this throat. "We'll have to see about the makeup kit Maria. I don't know if we can have you handling sharp objects or something that could potentially stab or hurt someone." The sheriff shifted awkwardly in his seat and she turned her steely gaze towards him, her upper lip twitching and almost curling back into a sneer before her whole demeanor changed.

"Well, that's good enough, thanks!" She giggled, transforming from a brooding, dark child into a happy bright girl in a matter of seconds. The doctor's eyes widened at this and Maria silently hoped that he would fall for the act and start to believe that it was the shock of seeing her mother murdered and having Michael threaten her for her to lash out at the sheriff. She needed him to trust her. _Trust is so hard to come by these days, _she thought.

"Um… we're here," the sheriff said gruffly, pulling into a parking space and getting out of the car, pausing only to tug up his pants before opening Maria's door. She slid out of the back of the cop car and glared up at the building. It looked so plain and so dull, out of place with the bright and colorful plants.

"Maria, this way," Dr. Loomis called and the sheriff placed a hand on her shoulder to guide her into the building. She turned and shot him a look and his hand slipped off her shoulder and she walked up the stone steps to stand beside the doctor, examining the halls and listening to the incoherent babble of the mentally disturbed down the hall. It sent a shiver down her spine.

While the doctor talked to the receptionist Maria looked around, peeking behind the desk to see someone get led down the hall in chains and a dark green jumpsuit and a white bathrobe with slippers. The man looked up at her with bloodshot eyes and when their eyes made contact he excitedly shouted "Newbie! We got a newbie!" The worked growled and roughly jerked on his chain circling his wrists, jerking him down another hall but Maria could still hear him cheering the word. She narrowed her eyes and Dr. Loomis murmured "Ignore that nonsense."

_…So this is where Michael was stuffed into? _She thought blankly, biting her thumbnail as Dr. Loomis finished with the receptionist. A loud buzz echoed into the stagnant air, making Maria jump, and Dr. Loomis propped open a chain link fence door. "Sheriff, you can leave now," he said and the sheriff nodded stiffly, stealing one more look at Maria before walking out the front door. "Maria, please come with me."

"Kay," she said dully, trailing after him down the hall, trying to ignore the stares coming from patients shuffling back and forth on their feet.

"A kid?" A woman whispered as they walked by, "They're bringing in another child into this hell?" Her voice took on a hysterical tone near the end and a nurse hurried over to shush her. Maria kept walking, her hands by her sides, her gaze trained on the doctor's limping gait as he led her to the end of the hall, stopping at the last door on the right.

Dr. Loomis opened the door and guided her inside to where a simple table with a chair on either side was waiting. Maria automatically sat in the door farthest from the door so the doctor wouldn't have to walk so far. He sat down and folded his hands out in front of him, taking out a notepad before clearing his throat. "Maria, I know you didn't want Michael to die," he said softly.

_No, what gave me away? Screaming his name before a billion bullets tore through him? _She thought smartly but kept her mouth shut.

"There are a few things that I'd like you to tell me, if possible." The good old doctor took a tape recorder out of his coat and pressed play. Maria heard the tiny mechanics whir to life. "First off, why didn't you talk until we found you at your home?"

"I… I don't know," Maria stammered, not bothering to lie on the first question. It was an honest answer. She really didn't know why she had suddenly started to blather about, but she had to admit, it did feel good to talk again.

Dr. Loomis nodded and jotted a few things down on a notepad. "Next… why didn't you tell anyone that you knew your father was dead?"

She flinched slightly. Her father's death wasn't something her mind was ready to handle, not yet. She had managed to shove all thoughts regarding him to the farthest corners of her mind but at the mention of the subject, the thoughts stirred. "He was a lying bastard," she suddenly said, "and I didn't care if he lived or died."

"But why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I guess I didn't think it was important," she said dryly. He gave a curt nod and continued to write, scribbling in some fancy adult cursive that just looked like a lot of loopy lines to Maria. She didn't understand how adults could read their handwriting; it was sloppy as hell.

She inwardly sighed. _This is going to take a while,_ she noted.

Bullets hurt.

But once you had that pain before, when it happened again it didn't hurt as much. Michael had been shot at before and had experienced the dull agony that had come from the blast of a gun. Shotguns were the worst; they left gaping holes that took months to heal. Pistols were relatively weak; small holes that could be sewn shut with minimal nerve and tissue damage. Well, as long as the bullet went through the wound.

Which, in Michael's case, most of them had not. Most of the bullets were still lodged inside his body, tearing through muscle tissue and vital organs. As soon as they had his vision blacked out and he vaguely remembered a high pitched screaming sound ringing in his ears before he hit the floor. His consciousness faded and he found himself standing in complete darkness as an eight year old boy in a silly clown costume once again. He held his breath, knowing what was to come but still could not stop the tremble that went through his body when the temperature chilled.

_"You have failed me… again." _The Voice hissed, seemingly all around him.

"I am not going to hurt her," Michael declared openly. Then, before giving the Voice a chance to say something, he boldly asked it "Why do you keep controlling me? All my family is dead, just let me go already! Please!" His throat constricted.

_"You imp, how dare you speak to me in such a manner. I will use you and your body until I deem fit. But for that unnecessary and annoying comment, you must be punished!" _Michael shuddered, his throat closing as a spike of fear ran through him. A freezing, icy wind came out of nowhere and chilled him all the way down to his bones and he hugged himself, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

A sharp, stabbing pain slowly intensified in the back of his skull, growing and spreading throughout his body as he screamed in pain, falling to his knees. "Make it stop! Please!" He cried, clutching his head with both hands while waves of agony slowly swept through him. While the physical part of his body slowly repaired itself in the real world, the mental part had to deal with constant pain until the Voice decided enough was enough. Michael always hoped it would be soon, but it never ended until the last moment when he thought he was truly going to die.

Maria quietly groaned. It had been an hour and a half and the questions still continued to pour out of the doctor's mouth. She wanted to die at this point; the endless tirade of words was proving to be too much for her attention span to handle.

At long last Dr. Loomis sighed, seeing he was going nowhere with his new patient and decided to take more drastic measures. He waved behind him and the door opened; Maria's head jerked up as a nurse and two orderlies entered the room. "Dr. Loomis?" she asked in fear, standing up from her chair, "W-What's going on?" She gave a small shriek as the two orderlies quickly crossed the room and grabbed each of her arms, holding her still in iron grips that were almost equal to Michael's.

Dr. Loomis stood, heaving a sigh. "I'm sorry Maria, but we're getting nowhere with his treatment and considering you have no legal guardians to endorse you, I'm afraid I'm overriding the waiting period for this kind of "medicine". Nurse Gates, if you would."

The nurse nodded and walked forward while Maria struggled and thrashed, her breath catching in her throat when the nurse produced a needle. "No! No no no!" she cried, trying desperately to break out of the damned guards grips. The nurse grabbed her arm and forced the needle into her vein, pushing the plunger all the way down. Almost instantly a heavy feeling of drowsiness settled over Maria and her eyelids fluttered. "No…" she murmured as the orderlies dragged her out of the room and down another hall into another room where an operating table was set up with various equipment strewn around the room.

"If you tell me everything you know about Michael Myers, we can forget this whole procedure," Dr. Loomis said softly, looking at her through his glasses.

Through her daze Maria flipped him off and he sighed. "Put her on the table," he instructed and the two orderlies lowered her on the table, securing her arms, legs, middle and neck. He moaned, a cold sweat covering her body. _I'm scared, _a single thought whispered inside her mind. Dr. Loomis snapped on a pair of latex gloves and walked behind Maria. A moment later she felt small circle like things press against her forehead and temples, wetted slightly with some sort of liquid.

_Electrodes, _her mind stated blankly. _Used for… electrical devices… oh God I'm scared._

A few excrutiatingly long seconds later, Maria felt some sort of metal helmet fitted over her head. "Now Maria, this is going to hurt but you're going to get better, alright?" Dr. Loomis cooed. She struggled but the straps didn't budge. A bit was shoved in her mouth as she tried to scream, the sedative wearing off in her system. "All ready?" the good doctor asked. Maria screamed behind the bit, twisting and turning her limbs in every which way possible.

"Clear!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Hey chickies! I wasn't going to continue this story but after I saw the reviews I decided to sit my butt back down on the computer and start writing again. I know this chapter is short but the next 2 (or 3) will be up a few seconds after this one.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**

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Maria came to with a groan. Her body hurt all over, as if someone had jabbed her with tiny needles while she slept. She tried to lift her head but the slightest movement caused a wave of pain to tear through her skull, and she wearily dropped back down onto the pillow with a slight whimper. _What… What happened? _Her mind struggled to piece together last night's events. She remembered the cry of _"Clear!" _and then pain, pain, pain. It seemed as if that was all she knew now. Pain. After all it was a close childhood friend. Her house, the police, the hospital…

She wearily looked around. It appeared she was lying on a cot, the pillow cradling her head stiff and rocky. There was a window high up in the far corner and darkening sunlight tauntingly drifted through the glass, teasing her, reminding her that she couldn't get outside. There was an oak desk pushed up against the wall with – _my backpack!_ – lying on top. She struggled to lift her head a few inches off the pillow and could see clothing and a hint of a sneaker inside her backpack before she had to lay back down, a heavy feeling of exhaustion pressing on her chest. Maria dragged her eyes all around the room and stopped at the heavy steel door. There was a single window in the door and it was nearly soundproof, save for the two loud voices arguing outside.

"I don't care what kind of access the state gives you Loomis; you had no right to do that to a little girl!" A familiar voice shouted. It was the sheriff. At hearing him shout Maria felt a shiver run down her spine. She had tried to stab him. Why she had done that, she couldn't remember. Her mind felt foggy and her thoughts were disoriented. _A drug, _her brain came to the conclusion. _I've been drugged._ The voices continued outside.

"We are not dealing with your average child, Sheriff Brackett. You forget that this child has spent nearly 36 hours total with Michael Myers. I have to know everything she knows about him. It is vital!"

_Fuck you Loomis. Fuck you and your psychoass nonsense. _

"Why does it matter anymore Loomis? Myers is _dead._ Dead! He ain't comin' back this time, not with about 300 lead bullets he ain't. So why do you have to keep torturing this little girl? Hasn't she already been through enough?"

Maria inhaled sharply, the sheriff's words resounding faintly in her ears. '_Myers is dead. _Dead!' "He's actually gone," she managed to murmur, her throat cracked and sore from the amount of screaming she had done yesterday. That was it. The famous Haddonfield serial killer had now been officially wiped off the face of the planet. Maria had been so deep in her thoughts she didn't notice the door open until Sheriff Brackett and Dr. Loomis were already inside.

Loomis cleared his throat "Mar-

-"Shut up!" she snapped-

"-ia, we need you to get up and out of bed," he finished with a sigh. Maria shot a look at him, feeling both intense hatred for the doctor and a streak of fear as well. _Now I can see why Michael hated him so much, _she thought to herself. She tried to get up out of bed but her arms shook when she propped herself up. _God I'm a mess,_ she thought bitterly.

"Jesus Loomis what'd you give her?" Sheriff Brackett exclaimed, glaring at him while moving over to help Maria sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed. She gritted her teeth as she did so, waves of nausea passed over her that came high and low in deep waves. Whatever amount of the drug Loomis had given her was obviously way off the recommended amount, but in the back of her mind Maria doubted such a strong drug would even be allowed for people her age.

Dr. Loomis paused before saying in a lower tone, "Just 2 small doses of a sedative."

Maria struggled to catch her breath and started to cough into her hands as the sheriff helped her to her feet. "I asked what you _specifically_ gave her, doctor. Don't bullshit me." The girl he was holding swayed back and forth on her feet, her eyes focusing and un-focusing. She looked like the living dead, her eyes having a glassy and faraway look to them. He inwardly winced, partially blaming himself for her current state before looking back again at Dr. Loomis.

The psychiatrist seemed to struggle with his words before he said softly "Thorazine. I gave her Thorazine." Maria heard the sheriff swear and the next thing she knew, his hands had left her shoulders and were now in the process of shoving Loomis up against the wall. She watched, dumbfounded as the two began to shout again. _They just don't shut up, do they?_

"Okay," she said, mostly to herself, glancing to see if the two of them heard. Personally, Maria was surprised nurses hadn't come running in yet stabbing a sedative into the raging sheriff but he probably had a few cops stationed around the hospital to keep them at bay. Taking a deep breath she shouted "Okay, alright, I'll go! Just shut up already!"

"Maria, you don't even know where you're going," the sheriff protested, releasing Loomis from the wall and walking in front of her.

"She's going to Warden Penitentary," Loomis gasped, massaging his one shoulder with a grimace on his face. The sheriff opened his mouth to object but Loomis ignored him, continuing, "The reason being, if the people of Haddonfield find out that Maria had willingly cooperated with the serial killer who slaughtered more than 50 people in Haddonfield, and that she was staying here… they would come after her." The sheriff snapped his mouth shut.

"We could protect her," he said gruffly. "The Haddonfield police are a strong unit."

"From the verbal and mental abuse? From the glares from people when she walks down the street? From the whispers and rumors that would accumulate?" Loomis shook his head. "No, sheriff, it would be in her best interest to leave Haddonfield as soon as possible."

They both turned their heads to look at the small girl in front of them who was no longer swaying on her feet but instead focused on the space between them with a sharp look in her eyes. The drug was clearly wearing off. "Well Maria, do you accept the offer?" Loomis asked.

The girl pondered it over for a second.

"Yes. I accept."


	11. Chapter 11

**What'd I tell you guys? I'm a past writer ;) I know you've all missed Mikey Myers but rest assured, your psychopathic serial killer needs will soon be met.**

**REVIEW OR MICHAEL WILL STAB ME.**

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"Hey Dan, can you hurry up? I wanna get this sucker to the ice box as soon as possible."

Dan shot a glare at his partner, Chris who was sprawled out in the passenger seat, his dirty boots propped up on the dash and his ratty hair sticking out from underneath his baseball hat. He was in his mid-20's, tall but a bit on the pudgy side and about as smart as a stick. He flipped through the magazine he was reading, grinned at what he saw and held it up in Dan's face. "Hey, how 'bout dat ass, huh Dan?"

Dan shoved the filth away and resumed driving. "You know I don't like that garbage."

"Aw, c'mon lighten up," Chris whined and gave him another cocky grin before focusing his attention back on the magazine. Dan glanced in the rearview mirror to the back and felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight of the black body bag. _Who woulda thought that one day I would be taking THE Michael Myers to the morgue? _He said to himself. It was a few minutes before Chris spoke again.

"Hey, whatever happened to the girl that Myers kidnapped?" Dan looked over at the boy from the corner of his eye; the magazine was closed in his lap and he was staring at the older driver. "Ya know; the one who _supposedly _went crazy after the psychopath was shot?"

"They're taking her up to Warden Penitentiary. It has heavier security."

"Why would they send her there if Myers already kicked the bucket?" Chris asked genuine curiosity in his voice.

Dan shrugged. "I dunno. There's always some psycho who tries to blame it on the victim. My guess is Loomis wants to prevent Maria from what happened to that other girl, Jamie." He shook his head. "The townspeople wanted her thrown out of Haddonfield. I can't imagine what they would do to this girl once they learn she was actually cooperating with him."

Chris thought his over for a second. "So they'll be drivin' on this same road then."

"Yeah."

Chris went quiet for a moment, then turned around in his seat to stare at Myers' body. "Hey Mikey looks like your little girlfriend ain't gonna see the sun shine for a long time," he crowed and then laughed out loud before plopping back down in his seat, clapping his hands once like the idiotic child he was.

Dan cast him a sour glare. "Hey, what's your problem?" Chris snapped and Dan muttered something under his breath before focusing back on the road, squinting to see through the dark. The younger of the two bristled and went to glance through his magazine when his temperament got the better of him. Throwing the magazine to the floor of the van, Chris opened his mouth to tell the old man off when the sound of ripping and a zipper pulling open with a squeal caught his attention. He turned just in time for a pair of hands, dirty, burned and scarred, to shoot out, grasp his head and squeeze. The young man screamed, thrashing in his seat. "Oh my God!" Dan cried, batting at the pair of seemingly dead hands with one of his own. Blood started to squirt between the fingertips and finally the head cracked like an eggshell. Dan yelled, shielding his face with one arm as blood, bone and bits of brain showered on him and the ambulance swerved. Cursing, he fought to gain control of the ambulance when it ran up alongside of the cliffs.

Shouting filled the van as it flipped, the sound of metal screeching clawing at the old driver's eardrums as the ambulance flipped onto its side. Dan's head snapped down on the wheel and his nose splintered; his head snapped back and stars flashed while glass rained all over him. His head lolled as the ambulance ground down on the pavement, coming to a screeching halt. He remained suspended in his seat for a few moments, trying to comprehend what had just happened while his hands fumbled at the belt; as soon as it clicked free he slumped onto Chris's body.

With a choked cry he shoved himself away and weakly crawled out of the front of the windshield, scrabbling at the broken glass. An audible _thump _came from the inside of the van and he lifted his head to the back doors shuddering. A small whimper bubbled out from between the man's lips as he desperately crawled forward, mindless of the slivers of glass that cut deep into his fingers. He heard a trickling sound; looking over his shoulder oil was leaking out of the van at an alarming rate, the headlights reflecting off the collecting puddle. Not good. There was a loud bang of two metal doors being thrown open and instantly Dan knew what it was; the van's back doors had been flung open by someone _inside the van_.

The sound of heavy boots crunching down on the glass made Dan's heart leap into his throat as he turned, lifting his shaking hands to cover his face as the silhouette of a figure came into view. _Jesus Christ, it's him! It's Michael Myers! He didn't die! How is he not dead?! _He thought. Two eyes glared at him and he blinked, his lower lip trembling as the killer came right up to him, breathing heavily behind his mask. "P-p-please," he sputtered, blood dripping from a nasty gash on his forehead. "Have mercy."

In response the man reached over and ripped a piece of metal from the ambulance, raising it over his head. The black eyes behind the mask narrowed, an unknown rage lighting them up in the darkness. Dan cursed and tried to scramble away but the metal stake came crashing down right through his back and burying itself deep into the grass. He gave one last choked cry before going limp, blood slowly seeping into the ground.

He yanked the stake out of the man and tossed it into some bushes, waiting for the red haze clouding his vision to dissipate. The rage swam through him, making his nerves twitch and his hands quiver. The moonlight illuminated the steady pool of crimson that was making its way from the old man. Michael stood over the body, his own aching and throbbing. Each spot where the bullet had pierced him stung but he didn't die. The Voice wouldn't allow him too. Even now it resumed its presence in his mind and whispered _"The girl… I want her gone…" _He shook his head, stubbornly focusing himself on the task at hand. He needed to find his little girl and save her. That bastard of a psychiatrist, Loomis, probably had her locked up in Smith's Grove but now he was taking her somewhere worse. Michael didn't even want to imagine what Loomis might have done to her, remembering the painful sessions with the old psychiatrist too well. At the very least he was glad that the man had been fooled into thinking he was dead and sending him to… well, most likely a morgue out of Haddonfield. He recalled the boy's gloating and sneering and scowled behind his mask, the red mist starting to come back. He was glad he killed the boy slowly and painfully; anyone who spoke bad of his little girl would be slaughtered. He looked around; it was dark and the road was quiet except for the hissing of some broken pipe inside the vehicle. To the side of the road was a mildly steep cliff leading into a thick field. He started forward and then stopped as he glimpsed headlights out of the corner of his eye coming his way. He moved behind the van and stood there in the dark, unmoving, his hand flexing as if he still held his traditional kitchen knife.

Maria wriggled uncomfortably, biting back a sound of frustration. The handcuffs were too tight. She really hoped the car ride wouldn't be too long and wished she could get her bag out of the truck to get her teddy bear. She glared through the slot at the driver and his fat blob of a companion. He was focused on his iPhone, playing some stupid game while the driver whistled along to a song on the radio. The music was making her restless and she fidgeted in her seat again, wishing her hands weren't shackled together. At the very least she was grateful they were at least in front of her, not tied behind her back like some sort of criminal. Her head still throbbed and pulsed every so often and she shuddered in her seat at the gruesome memory, the electrical shock coursing through her veins. Her fear was replaced by anger and her upper lip curled in a bit of a snarl.

_I swear to God I'm going to kill Loomis if Michael doe-_

Her thought cut short as she realized who's name exactly she was going to finish. She bit her bottom lip. _Don't do this to yourself, Michael's gone and he's never coming back, _she whispered in her mind. Her mind was the only safe place she had left, although that crazy psychiatrist had his intentions set on destroying her secret haven and exposing her thoughts and memories for all to see.

The thought of almost saying his name sent a wave of guilt, remorse and a spark of fear flooding through her veins. She had to admit, life with Michael, although dangerous and stressful, was fun. He had shown kindness to her, something she hadn't gotten from an adult in a long, long time, excluding the times when strangers attempted to be nice to her. He had defended her when those kids came in the basement and had become livid when the one scratched her with his switchblade. Maria longed to trace her hand down that mark which had healed into a slight scar.

Even at the times when he lashed out at her in blind anger that she didn't understand, she always saw a spark of guilt in her eyes later on. She knew deep down that he didn't want to hurt her but maybe he couldn't stop himself. Slight tears pricked at her eyes and she furiously blinked them away. She didn't want to cry in front of these assholes.

"Hey… Hey, what's that up ahead?" The guy in the passenger seat suddenly asked, pointing with a finger. Maria lifted her head and peered through the thick glass separating them. "Holy shit, that looks like the van transporting Myers!" he cried and Maria sucked in a sharp breath, her heart speeding up. _Wait, does that mean…?_ She thought and then shook her head. She saw the dozens of bullets that tore through him; there was no way anyone could survive that.

"Oh my God," the driver murmured, starting to slow the car to examine the wreckage when the tires squealed, trying to get traction on the road but unable. Unbeknownst to the trio, the car had driven right into the oil puddle that had spilled from the van, collecting in a large pool. "Shit!" The driver cursed, frantically turning the steering wheel while at the same time stomping on the brakes. The tires squealed again and the car made the same mistake of the van; it steered towards the cliff and tipped over on its side.

Maria screamed as the whole car flipped, sending her smacking into the roof in a second. Her head spun as she desperately clutched her seatbelt in a weak attempt to keep herself from flying all around the car. The driver shouted once and Maria squeezed her eyes shut, hearing a sickening crack and the driver's partner screaming like a child. _Oh my God I'm gonna die! _She screamed inside her head. Glass shattered as the car finally came to a stop, one of the back doors busting open upon impact, the whole car tipped on its side.

Shuddering, Maria opened her eyes, her death grip on the seatbelt the only thing keeping her from sliding to the opposite end of the car, which was now on the ground. Passenger Seat Boy gave a girly squeal as he unbuckled his seatbelt and fell on top of the dead driver. Upon closer inspection, Maria saw a shard of glass embedded into his forehead. "Oh my God! Sweet dear Jesus!" he cried, kicking away the rest of the windshield.

Maria let go of the seatbelt and grabbed onto the broken door frame, scrabbling with her feet and finally standing on top of the headrest. She scowled; having handcuffs made it so hard to move. But why had they crashed in the first place? She sucked in a breath and jumped, managing to grip onto the edge of the car and hoisted herself up. She gazed at the wreckage in front of her and her eyes started to travel downwards where she saw the body. Maria gasped and suddenly had an urge to get off the car.

Swinging her legs over the ledge and counting to 10, Maria jumped and landed solidly on her feet, stumbling only slightly. Passenger Boy had his cellphone out and was frantically jabbing numbers, his back turned, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. Creeping around the side of the car, Maria reached inside, shuddering as her fingertips brushed the body of the driver and yanked the keys out of admission. The headlights went out and Passenger Boy gave a shout of "Hey!"

She scrambled around the back to the trunk and awkwardly knelt beside it, fiddling with the keys until one fit. Thanking the person who invented bumpers, Maria was easily able to open the trunk and retrieve her bag containing a lot of her clothes and some personal items, grunting as she dragged the bag out amidst the other items thrown in there. Relief swept through her as she somehow managed to get her backpack over both shoulders, cursing the handcuffs strapped to her wrists. She turned on her heel to leave, crouching next to the cop car and making sure Passenger Boy's back was turned before sprinting behind him into the darkness.

Scrabbling and slipping at the rocks and dry soil leading up the side of the cliff, Maria managed to hide herself amongst the trees and shrubs and took a moment to sit and breathe. So much had happened in such a little time, her mind was almost unable to comprehend it. She rested against a tree trunk, watching Passenger Boy try to get a signal in the headlights.

He was cursing and swearing aloud and his face was red and pudgy. Maria made a face. She especially didn't like people like him. Then she saw something. Squinting in the darkness, Maria could almost see what looked like a shadow disappear around the car. She frowned. _I must be seeing things, _she concluded. "Dammit!" Passenger Boy screamed, shoving his phone in his pocket and running his hands through blonde spiky hair. He went to go back to check on the kid in the car, hoping she hadn't escaped, but he never got there.

A hand came out of the darkness and clamped on his face, muffling the shriek that erupted from his lungs. Maria nearly bolted upright but instead bit down hard on her knuckle, her method for containing random bursts of excitement. "No way," she whispered. "There's no freaking way." Her heart pounded, threatening to burst right out of her chest. She couldn't keep still and crept forward an inch or so, wanting so badly to see who was hidden in the shadows. The body attached to the hand slowly materialized out of the dark and Maria inhaled and bit down harder, drawing blood. It seemed like her whole reality was about to shatter. Michael was _alive. _He had _survived!_ Seeing him in all his bloody, stoic glory made her feel giddy. There he was, still in his dark blue jumpsuit with his traditional white mask. The only thing missing was his kitchen knife. Maria sat, waiting for the right moment to come out from hiding.

Michael squeezed the kids face, anger and irritation making his grip even tighter. The kid slapped at his hand, his arm, his shoulders but Michael didn't budge. He was pissed to find that his little girl had snuck out of his grasp when he discovered the car empty. He got even angrier when he heard the boy muttering things about what he was going to do when he _found_ his little girl.

For once, he was glad and more than happy to oblige when the red haze clouded his vision and he lashed out from the darkness to crush the kid's skull. Pushing him further into the light, Michael reached back with one hand curled into a fist when the boy did something no other victim had ever dared to do.

Reaching out with one hand, the boys fingers clamped down on the tip of Michael's mask and in one fluid motion, _ripped it off. _Michael's eyes grew as he absently flung it behind him and he watched with growing concern as it disappeared into the darkness. The cool night air touched his flush skin and blew back his knotted hair in the breeze. His skin tingled and stung; feeling the mask rip off his face for God knows how long hurt. It was the first time in a long time since any sort of contact touched his face besides the rubber mask, and the sudden shock of it made him shudder. He suppressed a frustrated growl and gritted his teeth, his eyes practically glowing with rage. He was beyond livid at this point and quickly wrapped an arm around the kid's neck and yanked him into the darkness, not wanting to be in any sort of light without his mask. He really hoped Maria wasn't in the area and he really, really, _really_ hoped she hadn't seen his real face.

But of course neither luck nor hope was in Michael's favor.

Maria could only watch as Passenger Boy flung out an arm and tore off Michael's mask. An instant gasp shot out of her mouth and she clapped both hands over it, hoping to stifle the sound. _Oh my God! _She thought her heart in her throat. She watched the mask fly through the air and land only a few feet away, its blank gaze staring off into space. Her eyes darted back to Michael, anticipation and fear rising in her chest. The distance made it hard to see, but the light cast a shadow on his face and she could make out one black eye wide with fear. She could also see the color of his hair; a soft brown, a few shades lighter than hers. She eagerly leaned forward, wanting to see more of his face that he had so desperately tried to conceal but his visible features twisted in a snarl as he yanked the Passenger Boy into the shadows.

She hesitated a second before quietly crawling down the hill to grab his mask. She held it in her hands, running her fingers over its relatively smooth surface and brushed the dirt and leaves out of its fake hair. "It really is his mask," she breathed and looked back into the shadows. It was quiet. Maria crept down the hill, heading around the van in the direction where Michael had dragged Passenger Boy. She glimpsed the blurb of a shape head far around the car, away from the headlights and she stopped at the mangled head of Passenger Boy. Michael had snapped his neck and jammed his nose up into his skull, making one of his eyes explode in the socket. Maria bit her bottom lip, lifting the mask up in her shackled hands before creeping to stand near the edge of the headlights beam. She could see Michael's outline moving on the outskirts of the cliff, seemingly scanning the hillside in hopes of seeing his mask. Taking a deep breath, Maria hid the mask awkwardly behind her with one hand and stepped into the dimming headlights. _The battery must be almost out, _she thought and hesitated a moment before giving a loud cough.

She saw the shape spin around and could feel Michael's burning gaze lock on her. He was pissed off, but that expression faded when he saw who it was standing in the headlights. He strode towards her, stopping about 15 feet from the headlights. She could see happiness reflecting in his eyes as they rested on her. But when she brought her hands out from behind her, the happiness was quickly replaced with shock melting away into more anger mixed in with sadness. She didn't budge, biting a little on her lower lip. She didn't even know he felt sadness and was unsure to trust him, seeing as every time she had trusted him he had broken it and scared her nearly to death. She held the mask out, not moving a single inch from where she stood and focused her steely gaze on Michael. Maria knew she wasn't being fair but from all that he had put her through, she thought he could at least show her what the real Michael Myers looked like.

Michael took three steps forward and wearily held out a hand, his face still shielded by the shadows. Maria could barely see his face; the most she could make out was the smooth curve of his cheekbone and a jaw rugged with stubble and etched with a few scars. There was pain and betrayal evident in his eyes, those meager feelings covering up something darker and more sinister and Maria took a baby step forward, still not giving up the mask. His head slumped forward slightly, his eyes pleading. He still didn't move his hand, his fingers barely brushing into the light. "I'm not moving," she said softly and the pleading look hardened into something more sinister and angry. But Michael couldn't last out at her without risking exposing his face so there was nothing he could do.

Well, at least that's what Maria thought.

His eyes burning, Michael turned his head to the side, stepped to the edge of the car and smashed one fist into the headlights, cutting out half the light. Maria squeaked and backed up a step, clutching the mask to her chest as the remaining headlight dimmed. His eyes narrowed and he thrust his hand out to her once again, demanding what was rightfully his. Maria squirmed uncomfortably and looked at the mask in her hands. Why did he care so much if she saw his face? It wasn't like she was going to tell anyone. I guess it was almost the same to having her father ripped away; he was something she had all her life. Michael must treasure his mask if he freaked out that much to having it taken away.

Letting out a sigh of defeat Maria slowly walked out of the headlights to an evidently fuming Michael. Looking up at him with big, wide eyes she whispered "Can I at least put it on?" Michael's two hands curled into fists the size of softballs and she gulped, her fingers tightening on the rubber mask. "Please? We can go away from the light, then I won't see your face." She fiddled with the mask in her hands, waiting for him to snatch it out of her grasp and to snap her neck the same as he had done with Passenger Boy. His heavy breathing dropped to a sigh and Maria looked up to see him walk a few feet away from the beam of light. Excitement crackled in her veins as Maria trailed after him.

He stopped a good 20 feet from the headlights but even then Maria could tell he was nervous without needing light to see his expression. His jumpsuit shifted as he got down on his knees, becoming eye level with Maria. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, a small part of her annoyed at the fact that she still hadn't seen who he really was, and then gasped as she felt his two quivering hands clamp down on her wrists. She prepared to drop the mask and run while he was distracted but instead of starting to crush her wrists, he lifted her hands up above where his face might be. Maria blinked once, and then understood. "Oh," she simply said and with his hands guiding hers, placed the mask back on his face and felt the slight tremor in his grip halt immediately. As soon as rubber touched skin, Michael jerked to his feet and fixed his mask back in perfect place before lowering his head to shoot daggers at the little girl at his feet.

Maria let out a small whimper and collapsed to her knees. All the emotions she had felt in the last hour had piled up and broken through the walls in her mind, flooding through her at a horrifying rate. Being that she was only 9 years old it was an accomplishment in itself she hadn't broken sooner. She just couldn't take all the pressure that had built up and wailed into her hands "Please don't hate me Michael! Please don't hate me like my d_aaaa-aad_!" The last word broke off into a sob as her father's angry face popped up in her as clear as day, his features twisted into a menacing yell. She didn't want to see something so awful again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She just wanted forgiveness, forgiveness from when she was an innocent toddler and forgiveness now for something she was truly ashamed of. She shattered into a million pieces, everything pouring out. All her anger and hatred at her parents, the sorrow she had felt losing everything and the terror and pain she had experienced not only physically, but mentally as well. The tough teenager she had molded herself to be vanished in an instant. She melted back into the scared little girl who was ready to die the moment she saw Michael Myers walk through the door to where she was curled up in a ball on the floor and once again, waited for death to take her.


	12. Chapter 12

Michael wasn't sure whether to strangle the little girl sobbing at his feet or bend down to comfort her. What she had done was inexcusable. She had taken whatever little trust he managed to salvage and smashed it. The rage at that action was burning inside him like a furnace, encouraging him to bash the brat's brains out. But at the same time, he had done the same thing to her, and that part of him told him to forgive and forget. He was torn between polar opposites and he didn't like either of them.

Having his mask ripped off was horrible. It was like having his own skin torn off from his face. It made him feel weak and exposed as he furiously hunted around looking for it, turning only at a slight sound from behind him. Seeing her at least made him happy and pushed back some of the panic but at the same time made him more nervous. When he first saw her small form standing in the headlights, white gown flowing in the breeze, he started forward to see if she would come out from the light to help him. After all, she was the first person in a long time to treat him like a friend. She had to have seen what happened; surely she would help him find his mask. Trying to find it in almost pitch black was close to impossible, even for Michael Myers.

What he didn't expect was for her to have it. When he saw her small hands clutching at his mask shock and confusion jolted through him at the realization she already had it. He waited for her to walk out of the shadows and happily hand it to him but she didn't do that. No, that stubborn brat refused to move, determined to see his face. Michael felt a dull pain as if someone had socked him in the stomach when she stared at him with the same glassy eyes he had. He thought she would act like she had before; handing it over with a smile and wanting to see his own mouth curve into a grin; or at the very least, the bottoms of his eyes to crinkle. He guessed he had used and abused that motion too many times. When he waited a second, trying to decide if she would move or not and when she didn't, a dark burning hatred started to grow. He extended a hand, giving her once last chance to submissively hand it over but she refused, whispering "I'm not moving."

He ground his teeth and smashed the headlight, cutting the distance between them in half. She had squeaked and clutched his mask tighter to her in fear, a common emotion in her eyes. She looked frail and weak standing there in the fading light, her eyes wide and her hair frizzy. He demanded his mask back, forcing his hand out once again, his other hand curled into a tight fist. Finally she had stepped out of the light but then had to push his control limit to the max, asking him if _she _could put on his mask. At first he was ready to backhand her across the face, take his mask and leave her there in a pitiful heap on the road but then decided against it. He didn't need her screams tearing at his ears and besides, she would follow him anyway. Where else did she have to go? She had no family and would most likely be dragged back to a mental institution.

At this recognition a stab of guilt struck him but was swallowed by the rage almost in an instant. The red haze was creeping in from the corners of his vision but he forced it back and stepped farther into the shadows. The little girl was smart enough to follow after him as he allowed himself to get eye level with her, staring into her eyes. They looked as dark as his. He grabbed her wrists in the dark and guided her hands, so she didn't accidentally poke him in the eye or some other annoying thing. The last thing he needed was to be partially blinded with the little girl blathering apologies.

The moment his mask was back on his face he jumped to his feet and made sure it was secure before glaring at the girl while deciding a suitable punishment. She surprised and confused him once again by crumpling and starting to cry. Normally he would ignore this gesture but when he could tell through the hiccups and her quivering voice what she was saying, it made him freeze. _"Please don't hate me Michael! Please don't hate me like my daaaa-aad!"_ Her timid voice carried a strong message that thrust Michael back deep into his memories.

Hate.

Dad.

Ronnie.

God, how Michael had hated his stepfather. He hated him even more than he hated Judith, that little whore. Those two made life hell for young Michael. While Judith verbally abused him, calling him a useless little shit and other such nonsense, Ronnie would beat him against the wall in a drunken fit before leaving him there in a dazed heap. Michael had suffered too much from Ronnie; as had the rest of his family, his mother especially.

His child logic told him once Ronnie was out of the way, his family would be alright. But then what he had assumed as his consciousness was actually the Voice encouraging him to kill Ronnie. Michael had obeyed and the Voice spurred him on to kill Judith as well. When he was done Michael had taken baby Laurie and waited downstairs for his mother to come back and the three of them would live as a happy family.

But that fantasy shattered.

Remembering Ronnie and all the horrible things he had done was a tidal wave on Michael's already unstable mind. _"I don't hate you," _he wanted to tell her but couldn't. Perhaps they had something in common, a childhood they both wanted to forget. Michael had already seen the little girl's father; he and Ronnie were both drunken bastards. Michael was glad he had gotten rid of him and when Maria came back the next day, he was surprised to see she was glad as well. The feeling of self-hatred and disgust crashed down on him when he realized the extent of awful things he had done to this small child like his stepfather had done to him. And yet through all this she was still begging for his forgiveness. It was almost unbelievable.

He truly felt like the monster everyone kept telling him he was for the first time. What she had done was merely an act of curiosity and determination; nothing more. All her acts against him were innocent and non-lethal. He had tried to kill her _5 times. _After all she had done for him. Treated him like a human and tried to piece back together his ruined, blackened heart…

A strange watering came to his eyes and his vision blurred. It took him a moment before he realized what he was doing. Michael Myers was crying over a little girl whose name he didn't even know. He glanced down at her, his little memory trip only lasting a few seconds to see her still crying and sniffling like a baby, her tiny shoulders shaking. He crouched beside her, the moment causing her to look up in sudden fear and she didn't have any time to react before he pulled her into a hug. She struggled for a moment, making pathetic mewling sounds before the tears came again and she sobbed into his shoulder, her manacles rattling as she clutched at his chest. For a moment Michael wasn't sure what to do. He awkwardly patted her shoulder, his other hand behind her head as he slumped on his knees, holding his little girl close.

He guessed it was safe to see she really did belong to him now.

They stayed that way until her cries died away and all that was left was her shaking hands gripping his jumpsuit and her head still buried in his shoulder. She sniffled and stammered out "S-So do y-you h-hate me?" Her voice got softer. "It's okay if y-you do," she murmured, her grip loosening as she lifted her head. "Everyone else already does."

Maria raised her head to an even height to look Michael right in the eyes. They seemed brighter and shinier than usual, and it took her a moment to realize what had happened. When she did, her eyes almost bugged out of her head as she asked incredulously "Are you crying?"

His hand slipped out from behind her head and she slid onto the ground, letting go of his jumpsuit. Maria tensed up, ready for him to lash out in one of his sudden fits of unexplained anger, but instead he just sheepishly looked away, embarrassed. If he didn't have his mask on, she assumed he would have been blushing in shame. _To catch a serial killer crying is something one doesn't see every day, _she thought but she was also embarrassed to make him feel this way. "It's okay to cry," Maria said quickly, "I cry all the time! There's nothing wrong with it."

He turned back to face her and she saw the edges of his eyes crinkle slightly and knew he was smiling beneath his mask. Then he turned his gaze down to her hands, and she heard her handcuffs rattle as he gripped the chain in-between them with both hands. Maria gasped, closing her eyes at the anticipation as he snapped the chain in two, freeing her hands. She cautiously opened her eyes and smiled. "Thanks Michael." He nodded and got to his feet, Maria standing beside him. She fidgeted. "So… um… what happens… now?"

He tilted his head at her, confused by her question. "I mean, I don't know where I should go…" she said quietly, hefting her backpack higher up on one shoulder. She glanced at the two overturned vehicles and a small shiver ran down her spine as the remaining headlight finally shut off and they were thrown into darkness. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up, making out Michael's eyes through the pitch black. He gestured with his head to the hill beside them and the field that stretched off into the forest then pointed at her then him. The small gears in her head turning, Maria asked "I can come with you?"

He nodded and she smiled, her own hand automatically latching onto his. "Okay!" she said excitedly and Michael started forward, tugging on her hand. Maria obediently followed, her eyes flicking over to the ground every so often so that she wouldn't trip. While they walked, Maria replayed the scenes of what had just happened over and over again in her head. She still couldn't believe his drastic change of emotion; one second he looked like he was ready to kill her, the next he was on the ground beside her, hugging her. Michael really confused Maria with his immense mood swings and she knew there was a medical term for what he had, but couldn't remember it at the moment. Something "disorder", she knew that much but forgot the word in front of it. She was glad at least that he was allowing her to come with him and really hoped he would start acting more… normal once they got to wherever he was taking her.

_Speaking of which, where is he taking me? _Maria wondered. They weren't heading in the direction back to Haddonfield where she expected Michael to take her back to his house, but she guessed there would be too many police officers to return there for a while. _Maybe he has another home, _she thought.

They walked on the road for a few minutes, his grip every once in a while tightening and then relaxing before a thought occurred in her head. She abruptly stopped though Michael continued forward, effectively jerking her a few feet before she dug her heels into the ground, forcing Michael to turn around. He glanced at her apprehensively, as if to say _'what's the hold up?'_ "Michael I don't think I ever told you my name," Maria said with a small frown on her face. She smacked her forehead, muttering a curse under her breath. She pulled her hand out of his grasp and Michael fully turned around, tilting his head to the side in another confused gesture. Maria stuck out her hand and said "I'm Maria! Sorry I didn't say so sooner," she mumbled, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

For a moment he didn't move, then a hand ruffled the hair on top of her head and she looked up at his white mask. He seemed amused by her gesture but nonetheless, shook her hand anyway, trying not to accidentally rip her arm out of her socket. "You don't have to introduce yourself, 'cause I already know your name." She heard what sounded like a very faint chuckle from underneath his mask and her mood brightened. She tightened her grip on his hand and marched forward, Michael letting himself be tugged along behind her as she said "Well, let's get going!"

About an hour later, the time consisting of Michael having to drag Maria out of a ditch, having to hold her as they waded through a marsh, and having to grab her and keep her quiet from a wandering hermit, by the time they reached their destination, he was exhausted. Not just from handling Maria, but also from keeping the rage at bay. Each time she did something wrong, his annoyance and aggravation grew and it took a lot of willpower to keep from lashing out and snapping her neck, or just simply knocking her out. He considered hitting her hard enough to knock her unconscious but then decided against her. He didn't really want to hurt her, although he was nearing his breaking point. _She had better not be this difficult tomorrow, _he mentally growled. _Who would've thought it would take so much to take care of one freakin' kid?_ He was proud of himself that he had managed to make it this far without hurting her, but he couldn't keep his rage back much longer, at least for today.

When the end of their little adventure came into sight, relief soared through his veins. He could also feel Maria visibly relax as she yawed and rubbed at her eyes. "Is this it?" she asked groggily. He tugged her forward, anxious to get inside. He had taken her to a small cabin that he stayed at most of the year. He really only came to Haddonfield in October; that was the only time of the month that mattered. Unfortunately, when he found this place the previous owners weren't willing to leave, so he had to "forcefully" get them out. Their bodies were currently buried somewhere out in the field not far from the cabin. Michael led her up the steps to the front porch and pushed the door open, leading her inside before turning around to lock it. The last thing he wanted was for someone to try and barge in late at night. He placed his hands on her shoulders and hoped she would stay still so he could get some candles. Maria mumbled something about her backpack and rubbed her eyes but otherwise didn't make a sound or move.

His eyes already accustomed to the darkness, Michael made his way through his "borrowed" home to the bathroom, opening the cabinet and feeling around until he came upon the candles and matches. He lit one in the bedroom, one in the living room and came back holding a lit candle so Maria herself could see where she was.

Maria blearily looked around at the contents of the cabin. It was small, a bit bigger than her house but not by much, and it was old. The room she was standing in seemed to be a combination of a kitchen and a dining room. To her left was an old table with three chairs around it, one of the chairs tilted because it was missing a leg. There was a sink on the wall, its pipes rusty but water still must've been connected because as she watched, tiny droplets leaked out of the pipe onto the floor. There was a cabinet attached to the wall as well, the glass dirty and its contents unknown.

In front of her was a doorway with the door open and she could see a couch and an end table next to it. She felt a tap on her shoulder and glanced up to see Michael motion with his hand to follow her. She yawned again and padded after him, too tired to care that he might try to kill her in her sleep. He led her through the doorway and she glimpsed a bookcase next to the doorway before opening yet another door that led into a bedroom.

He pointed at her and then at the bed. Her eyes widened slightly. "But shouldn't you sleep here?" she mumbled and he just stared at her. She sighed and crawled onto the bed, tossing off her backpack and letting it land in the corner of the room. Maria fluffed up the pillow before collapsing on top of it. The trip had taken its toll on her as well; her limbs ached and her eyelids felt like lead weights. So much had happened in just one little day. "Thank you Michael," she murmured before her eyes fluttered shut. How she could just allow herself to pass out right in front of him was confusing to say the least. How could she trust him that much? Michael stood over her and watched as she drifted into sleep, her breaths rattling off into small snores. _Laurie used to snore too…_ he thought, recalling the memory when she was just an innocent child, then grimaced when a strong surge of anger coursed down his spine.

_Dammit… why am I thinking about that bitch… fuck!_ Michael allowed angry thoughts to occupy his mind of torturing and disemboweling his sister as he stalked out of the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. He felt ashamed at locking his little girl up in a room but at the same time he still didn't trust her. He really didn't need her bolting in the middle of the night or before he woke up but either way, if she did somehow find a way out of the room, he would hear her and kill her before she could tell anyone he was still alive.

Michael sat on the couch in the living room, holding his head in his hands. His body trembled slightly at his baby sister's name and he allowed a red haze to cloud his vision. He saw himself go into frenzy, smashing the end table and watching splinters fly across the room. He heard Maria cry out and turned around, breathing harshly through his mask and in two strides had crossed the room and flung the door open so hard it broke off one of its hinges. He heard her scream and plead but his rage was relentless and with one deadly swipe her blood painted the walls and she collapsed with a gurgling cry. He glanced down at his feet to see her black eyes stare up at his, glazing over as he dragged her limp body outside and snatched a shovel out of the shed. He dug up the ground and tossed her into the hole, her limbs in a tangled heap and her head rolling lifelessly on her shoulders as he covered her dead eyes with dirt. But what would he do after he killed her, after she was cold and dead?

_It does get cold in here sometimes, maybe I should get a blanket for Maria._ The stray thought crossing through his mind brought him crashing back to reality and he leapt to his feet, his heart pounding. _WHAT JUST HAPPENED? DID I KILL HER? _He thought wildly, spinning around to face the door. It was fine. Undamaged. He looked down at his shaking hands; they weren't covered in her blood. There was no knife to slit her throat with. With a trembling sigh Michael sat back down again and rocked his head in his hands, a headache starting to tear at his temples. He didn't know if he was going insane or what was happening with him anymore. All he wanted was to be left alone, and for the Voice to go away.

He hated himself. He hated the person he had become, and no one could change that. Not Dr. Loomis, not Laurie, not Jamie and not Maria. He wasn't sure why he hadn't killed her yet. She was just going to be a nuisance and it was hard enough to take care of himself, let alone a child. He should just break her neck when she wasn't looking and it would be the end of all his troubles. _I'll do it in the morning; _he thought weakly and allowed himself to fall back onto the couch, one arm going across his face before he passed out.

Maria woke with a groan, standing up from her bed with some difficulty. She expected to feel the dry scratch of the wool blankets and the buzzes from the hallway and when she fully opened her eyes, she was at first shocked at where she was. "Where… Oh." She cut off her question as her memories came back and looked around the small room. There was the door in front of her that she came in from last night, and another door in the back corner. A boarded window above her bed allowed some light to shine through and judging by how bright the room was, she guessed it had to be around 12 o'clock. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and yawned, standing up on wobbling legs and winced. The soles of her feet ached from walking around in the dark last night; her crummy flip flops didn't go any good protecting her fragile skin from the sharp pines and leaves that were scattered about in the field. _How long was I asleep?_ She wondered, padding over to the door. She gripped the doorknob and attempted to turn it but it wouldn't budge. A slight frown formed on her face as she thought why the door wouldn't open, and then the reason popped into her head and she groaned out loud.

_He still doesn't trust me. _She realized. She jiggled the knob one more time before getting down on her knees and peering through the space between the door and the floor. She didn't see anything and the house was eerily quiet. He was gone. "Great," she grumbled, flopping back onto the bed with a sigh and leaning over to snatch her bag off the floor. She hauled it up beside her, yanked open the zippers and dumped the contents of her bag onto the bed. There were three pairs of clothes, a pair of socks, her converse sneakers, a toothbrush with toothpaste, her teddy bear, a hairbrush and a water bottle. Her stomach growled at her stash of items and she sighed. She hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning and her throat felt like the Sahara desert. Taking a swig of water, Maria inwardly pleaded that Michael wouldn't leave her here to starve. Seeing no other options, she decided to do nothing until he got back.


End file.
